Infliction
by forensicsgirl
Summary: Love & Revenge: Story 4. Sequel to 'Valentine' Grissom and Sara are finally together. But will the ghosts of Sara's past cast a shadow on their hopes for the future? 'Only the one who inflicts the pain can take it away'
1. Free time and Interruptions

**Title – **Infliction

**Author – **forensicsgirl

**Pairing – **Grissom/Sara

**Rating – **T (PG-13),

**Author's Note – **This, along with the rest of the series, is set in the first half of the 5th season of CSI - pre-Nesting Dolls, so nothing about Sara's past has yet come out. I am sticking with Canon (as we know it right now) with regards to her past, and I will be dealing with it (in a slightly different way than the show did) in this story.

Things were getting a bit too happy in my little GSR universe, so I'm upping the angst in this one. You have been warned!

**Addendum – **As with the other 3 stories in the series, this is an edit version, with any corrections I have made during recent archiving.

**Disclaimer -** I don't own CSI yet. I keep bidding, but they won't sell! All characters you recognize belong to CBS/ Anthony E Zuiker/Jerry Bruckheimer Productions. Any copy write infringement is utterly without malice and done in the spirit of love and respect.

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* * *

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_'Only the one who inflicts the pain can take it away.'_

Chapter One – Free Time & Interruptions 

Miraculously, no calls from work had interrupted them that night.

Sara had marveled at this fact as she lay in his arms, utterly sated from their love making. It was a sign. This was going to work.

No visible barriers lay ahead of them now. They had both finally let their respective guards down and let each other in. The work angle had been taken care of. She had already composed the letter to Cavallo in her head, and later she would put it all down on paper. Then it would be done – work could no longer prevent them being together.

And then as she lay there, cocooned in his arms, believing with all her heart that nothing could make her happier that she was at that moment, she thought she heard Gil Grissom whisper that he loved her.

* * *

She awoke that night in an empty bed. A cold chill crept over her, a sadness that she immediately berated herself for. She rolled over and the sight she beheld on the other pillow drove the chill from her heart and replaced it with a giddiness she hadn't felt in a long time.

A small bouquet of white violets she recognized as coming from the garden outside her apartment building. And a note.

Gathering the flowers to her to inhale their pleasing scent, she picked up the note and recognized his precise handwriting immediately.

_Sara,_

_Did you know that all flowers have meanings? The meaning of the white violet is 'Let's take a chance on happiness'. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, but duty called and you were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to wake you. I'll call you when I get off shift. Yours, Grissom._

'_You've come along way, Gris_,' she thought to herself, smiling at the memory of the plant he had sent her so long ago, with a card that simply read '_From Grissom'._ Burying her face in the pillow he had slept on, she inhaled his scent and slept once again.

* * *

Sara decided to keep her word to Catherine and take a full two weeks holiday from work. Afraid that if she didn't do something useful in the time she'd become frustrated or bored, she assigned herself tasks to occupy the time. Her first day off was consumed with her organizing her chaotic desk, and filing away journal articles into some kind of order.

The second day, she had the burning desire to get out of the house, so she decided to go shopping. Ever the champion of practicality, she avoided the more feminine pursuits of clothes shopping, and headed straight for the nearest hardware store.

Armed with paint and brush, she tackled the living-room first, exchanging the shade of purple that she had loved when she picked it, for a warm butterscotch cream. The room instantly felt brighter and more spacious.

She had agonized over the color she would paint her bedroom, talking herself out of the rich Moroccan red that she had fallen for initially. As much as she loved the shade, she knew that, even confined to one wall, it would only contribute to her difficulty in sleeping. Bearing in mind the psychology behind color schemes, which she had read about once in a journal article, she picked a restful shade of lilac and spent her fourth day off applying it to the walls of her small bedroom.

The rest of her first week off was consumed by on of her major passions – reading. She devoured several journals and a number of books, filing away the information in her mind like a diligent archivist. Alongside forensics and physics, she insured that entomology was featured among her intellectual pursuits. She intended to be ready for Grissom next time he went off on a tangent about bugs.

Grissom's work schedule prevented them from seeing each other all week, but they spoke every day on the phone. Tonight, however, was his night off. As she showered and changed, preparing for their dinner-date at his townhouse, she couldn't suppress the excitement building in the pit of her stomach. It would be their first evening together since their relationship had progressed to the next level. The thought of spending another night in his arms sent the usually cynical Sara giddy with delight.

* * *

A vegetarian casserole was simmering in the oven, and Grissom inhaled its pleasing aroma as he crossed the kitchen to lay a basket of fresh five-grain rolls on the table. Giving a last check to ensure everything was ready, he glanced at his watch again. 7.55. The ever punctual Sara Sidle would be here in five minutes.

Twice he picked up his cell phone and seriously considered switching it off. He didn't want anything to spoil this night. Only his (at this moment in time, annoying) sense of duty and guilt stopped him from pushing the switch-off key. Maybe the fates would smile on him and he'd have a blissfully crime free evening.

This past week had been unexpectedly difficult for him. Being used to a solitary life for so long, he was surprised to find himself thinking of Sara constantly during the week, their phone conversations not coming close to filling the gap in his life that her absence had left. This newfound need for her was both frightening and exhilarating. He had never wanted to become dependant on another human being for his happiness – that in his experience led only to loss of identity and heartache. But he found his heart opening up in unexpected ways and he knew that he would not be able to close it now, even if he wanted to.

At precisely two minutes to 8, a soft wrap on his front door stirred him from his musings. Smiling at her punctuality, he hurried to the door and opened it to reveal her smiling face.

'Hey.'

His eyes drank in the sight of her like a parched man at an oasis. 'Hey!' He stood back to let her into the town house and shut the door behind her. She was the picture of understated elegance in brown pants and an olive green top with shoestring straps. Her hair hung to her shoulders in loose curls. 'You look… stunning.'

'Thanks,' she said, turning to look at him. 'Something smells good.'

'Just a casserole…'

She grinned suggestively. 'Actually? I wasn't talking about the food.'

She crossed to him in two long strides and ran a hand up his arm. 'A week is too damn long,' she told him. Her hand made its way across his shoulder and into the curls of his hair. 'Too damn long.'

'I know what you mean,' he breathed, stooping slightly to capture her lips with his own.

She moaned lightly at the contact, placing her hand at the back of his head and pulling him closer, savoring the taste of him in her mouth. Backing across the room slowly, Sara pulled him towards the couch, negotiating her way around the coffee table, unwilling to break contact even for a second.

Tripping at the last moment, she fell backwards onto the sofa, pulling him down on top of her. Laughing like teenagers, they locked eyes, torn between amusement and desire. Desire won out, Grissom turning his attention to her neck, making her purr with pleasure.

'God, Sara,' he breathed into her skin. 'I've missed you so much.'

Emotion welled in her throat, rendering her mute. Instead she ran both hands through his hair and drew his face to hers once more. She was hard pressed to pinpoint a time that she felt happier. And that scared her. So much of her life had been spent making herself self-sufficient. She had never _needed_ to be with people to survive, not since she was in her early teens. And now… now she was completely swept up in this man. A man she had desired for so many years, yet barely dared to believe she would ever get. And it frightened her to realize how much she needed him.

Grissom ran a hand up her back, taking the flowing material of her top with him. Her skin was soft and pale and he could feel her shiver slightly under his touch. Moving his lips across her throat in a gentle caress, he sat up partially and grinned playfully, before moving down to kiss her flesh just north of her navel. She shivered again with delight.

His hands were moving further north, raising her top higher, when his phone chirped to life.

'Damn it!' he groaning in frustration. 'I _knew_ I should have switched the damn thing off.' Pulling himself upright, he gave Sara an apologetic look.

'You were going to switch your phone off?' Sara asked, both surprised and amused. 'Doesn't the world end if you do that?'

'Don't start,' he admonished her, before picking up the offending phone. 'Grissom,' he spat out, and Sara felt sorry for whoever was on the other end.

'Can't anyone else handle it? … It _is_ supposed to be my night off… Yes, I know we're short handed at the moment, but… _Fine,_ Jim. I'll be right there. What's the address?' Noting the information down on a pad, he ended the call and turned to Sara. 'I'm sorry, but…'

'Duty calls,' she smiled, unable to keep a tiny hint of disappointment out of her voice. 'It's okay.'

'A 417 in Henderson.' He straightened his shirt and picked his jacket up. 'Listen. Stay here, okay? Have something to eat, watch some TV. I'll be back as soon as I can.'

'Sure.' She got up off the sofa and crossed to him. 'I'll save you some dessert,' she told him with a smile that almost made him forget the crime scene he needed to get to.

Kissing her goodbye, he headed to the door with a sigh. One of these days, the fates would be kinder.

* * *

'Sorry for pulling you away from your date, Gil,' Brass smirked at him as the CSI supervisor came up the pathway towards the modest house looking less than pleased. 'How's Sara?'

Grissom just glared at him.

'Hey, I'm a detective,' Brass exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. 'I _detected_. So sue me.'

Grissom ignored the comment and was instantly all business. 'Who called this in?'

Brass huffed out a little sigh, clearly accepting that he would get nothing from the intensely private entomologist for the moment. 'Next door neighbor. Heard screaming, yelling, the whole nine yards. When she heard glass being smashed, she dialed 911.'

'Is the husband still inside?'

Brass shook his head. 'Took off when he heard the sirens. Wife's still inside. He worked her over pretty good.'

Leading the way, Brass went back inside the house and into the living room. On the way, Grissom spotted two sets of frightened eyes peering at him through the gaps in the banisters that enclosed the upstairs hallway. The children they belonged to couldn't have been more than eight or nine, but they looked world-weary and older than their years.

The first thought that entered his mind as he laid eyes on the victim was that if Brass had told him that she had just gone three rounds with Mike Tyson, he would have believed it. One eye was almost completely swollen shut, while the other was a violent shade of purple. One of her cheekbones looked like it may have been fractured. Her lips were caked in dried blood, and he suspected she had lost a tooth in the attack. Green and yellow tinged bruises along her jaw line and other cheek bone told Grissom that this was not the first beating the woman had sustained.

'Mrs. Harper, this is Gil Grissom from the Crime Lab,' Brass made the introductions. 'He may have some questions for you. And he'll want to gather some evidence.'

The woman looked frightened at the prospect of this. 'What kind of evidence?'

Grissom sat on the edge of a chair, opposite to where Mrs. Harper was sitting, bringing himself down to her level. He kept his voice calm and soothing as he addressed her. 'I'd like to take some photographs. To document your injuries. And I may need to take DNA evidence from you. For example, did you struggle with your husband? Maybe get some of his skin under your fingernails?'

She shook her head. 'I didn't struggle. It only makes him… it just pisses him off if I fight back… makes him more violent.'

Both men struggled to keep the revulsion from their faces. Just how much more violent could this man possibly get?

'Mrs. Harper? Would you allow me to take some photographs?'

She looked hesitantly from Grissom to Brass and back again, but finally nodded her consent. Snapping off a few establishing shots, Grissom noticed that she flinched, as if each flash of the camera was another slap or punch. He hurriedly took close ups of her injuries, anxious not to prolong her discomfort.

Grissom lowered the camera slowly and attempted to keep his face dispassionate as he watched the woman before him shrink in her seat. She seemed to be attempting to take up as little space as possible, wrapping her arms around her knees in almost a fetal position. While his face remained neutral, his heart ached for the pain she must be going through, both emotionally and physically. The swelling on her face seemed to have worsened in just the short time that Grissom had been in her presence.

'Mrs. Harper? Would you like us to make arrangements for you to go to the hospital now?' he suggested.

Mrs. Harper was staring off now and didn't appear to hear him. 'Mrs. Harper?' Brass tried.

Slowly, she shook her head. 'No… no… I'm fine.'

They left the house thirty minutes later, completely unable to convince the victim to go to either the hospital or a shelter; however she did permit Grissom to collect evidence from her hands and clothing.

'That's the third call-out we've had to this address in the last year,' Brass remarked once they were outside the house. 'Neighbor always calls it in, we get here and she usually won't make a formal complaint, won't file charges. At least she's willing to do it this time.'

Grissom merely nodded.

'I've put out a BOLO on the husband. Hopefully we'll collar him before he comes back here,' Brass looked back towards the house. 'Sick bastard. As if beating his wife isn't bad enough, he does it in front of the kids…'

'It's a sick world, Jim,' Grissom replied. 'That's why we're here.'

TBC.


	2. Passion and Shopping

**Disclaimer – **See Chapter One.

**Author's Note - **To answer one concern that was voiced by a couple of people - Sara re-painting her apartment. I love her purple walls in 'canon', I do honestly. But I was being all metaphorical and didn't think of people's attachments to said wall color. What I was getting at was that Purple is the color of bruising (and we all know how much Sara's past has left her bruised) - Well, she's trying to move away from that now and let the light into her life and move forward - hence the lighter colored walls. Also the Moroccan red she almost painted her bedroom walls was my little tribute to the work Jorja Fox was doing in Morocco this past summer (and it just happens to be the color of the feature wall in my bedroom...)

Finally note I'd like to make before I shut up and let you read the chapter is about the angst. I warned of heavy angst in this chapter and you'll find pretty much none in the first couple of chapters. Why? Because sometimes it's always darkest before the dawn. And sometimes the exact opposite is true...

* * *

Chapter Two – Passion & Shopping

It was close to midnight when Grissom finally made it back to his townhouse.

The crime scene still haunted him. A master at concealing his emotions, he rarely gave his co-workers a clue as to how much certain crimes sickened him. He had three big problem areas – Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse and drugs being sold to kids. Truth be told, anything that affected kids usually bothered him immensely, and his usual routine after such cases would be to go home, pour himself several large whiskeys, and try in vain to block it all out. He knew the faces of the two children from tonight's case, not to mention their poor mother, would haunt him for a while to come.

As he slid his key into the lock of his front door, he suddenly remembered that he was not going into an empty house. Sara would still be there, waiting for him. The speed at which his heart lightened at the thought of this told him all he needed to know about their relationship. Going home to her suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She was curled up on his sofa; the entomology text she had been reading had fallen to the ground as she succumbed to sleep. Grissom smiled. It was nice to know that Sara Sidle actually did sleep from time to time. Moving quietly, so not to wake her, he lifted the afghan that lay across the chair and began to cover her with it.

'Hey there.' Her voice startled him.

'I thought you were sleeping.'

'I was.' She opened her eyes and stretched out on the sofa like a cat. 'I'm awake now.'

Kneeling down at her side, he softly kissed her lips. 'If you're tired…'

She immediately sat up as if to prove that was not the case. 'I'm not tired.'

Grissom sat back on his heels and regarded her gravely. 'Sara, you need your sleep. We can… be together another night.'

'Gris, I'm not tired!' she insisted.

Grissom shook his head. 'No, I'm sorry. I have to insist you go straight to bed.'

Ignoring any further protests she issued, he stood up and, in one quick action, picked her up into his arms with the agility of a man ten years his junior. She squealed in surprise.

'Grissom! What are you doing?'

'Taking you to bed.'

His husky tone suggested she would be getting little sleep this night, and she was delighted at that prospect.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her face against his neck, breathing in the maleness of his scent. He let out a low groan as her lips nipped and caressed at the sensitive area where his neck and shoulder met.

Reaching the bedroom, he gently laid her down on his bed. 'You get some sleep. I'll take the sofa.'

He turned as if to leave, but Sara reached out and grabbed his hand. He turned grinning. 'You better be kidding, or you're in big trouble,' she told him in a soft, dangerous voice.

Moving back towards her, the smile in his eyes became clouded over with desire. He sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly traced the contours of her face with his fingertips. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. As his fingers brushed across her lips, she parted them slightly, capturing one of his fingers in her mouth, sucking on it sensuously.

Taking one of her hands in his, he pulled her into a sitting position, lifting her and to caress it gently with his lips. Tracing soft kisses from the tip of her fingers and down to her wrist; he pulled her closer to him, their bodies now merely a breath apart.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent that was Sara. His tongue flicked over her sensitive flesh, sending shivers of pleasure down to the base of her spine. He seemed in no particular hurry, as if he wanted to savor each and every moment that passed between them; each moment was to be revered and worshipped as though sacred.

In one fluid movement, her top came over her head and landed on the floor. He traced her now bare shoulders with his large fingers, gently, as though she were a china doll. Sara's head went back as he ran his fingers along her throat, teasing her at her most sensitive spot. When his lips traced the same path his fingers had, Sara moaned in delight.

Sliding her body across his, she straddled him, her long legs wrapping around him territorially. With more urgency than he had shown, she tugged his shirt out of his pants and claimed his skin with her fingertips. Sliding her hands around to the front to unbutton his shirt, she was surprised when his body jerked in response. She drew herself back and looked at his face. An embarrassed smile played on his lips.

'Are you _ticklish?_' she asked in surprise. She hadn't noticed before.

He shrugged. 'A little. In certain… places.'

Sara smiled seductively. 'I'll just have to take my time discovering all these ticklish… _places_ then, won't I?'

They sunk back on the bed laughing as she ravaged him with tickles. For a moment he was helpless, unable to breathe through the laughter. Then he flipped her onto her back and straddled her, pinning both arms above her head.

'You're going to pay for that, Ms Sidle.'

'Really,' she said, breathless from both the laughter and the thrill of the man on top of her. 'And just how are you planning on…'

But he was done with playing. Swooping down quickly, he captured her lips and kissed her senseless, putting pay to anymore questions, any more games. When he released her, he saw not humor in her eyes but hunger, a passion that equaled his own.

There would be no sleep for either of them that night…

* * *

Mia Dickerson found him in his office two nights later, pouring over the ever increasing mountain of paperwork on his desk.

'I have the preliminary results on your domestic assault case.'

'You ran DNA?' Grissom was puzzled since they still hadn't located the husband, and therefore had no definitive means of comparison.

'No, but I ran blood type. It matches they blood type on the husband's medical records. And its XY,' she replied. 'Still no luck locating him?'

He shook his head. 'Not yet.'

'Well, when you do, send a sample my way and I'll get to work on DNA comparison.'

Grissom nodded absentmindedly as she left the office. There was no urgency for DNA in this case. They didn't need to prove who had attacked Elaine Harper. They just needed to find him.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear a second person enter his office until she cleared her throat.

'Busy?'

'As ever,' he looked up and gave the strawberry blonde woman a tired smile. 'What can I do for you, Cath?'

Catherine sat down with out waiting to be invited and crossed her long, graceful legs with the agility of the dancer she once was.

'I'm just checking in. Making sure you have your speech written.'

His face was blank. 'Speech?'

'Tomorrow night? Big dinner? Ecklie's promotion? Cavallo asked you to give a speech? Any of this ringing a bell?'

The blank expression was gradually replaced by a look of disgust. 'I forgot.'

'Deliberately, no doubt,' she remarked. 'Write the damn speech, Gil.'

She got to her feet was making for the door when another thought struck her. 'Sara going with you?'

'Huh?'

Catherine fought the urge to roll her eyes. 'Is Sara your date for the evening?'

Preoccupied on the subject of the speech he had no interest in writing, Grissom only half glanced up. 'Uh… sure… I'm mean…'

Unable to prevent the eye-rolling this time, Catherine left the office determined to help things along.

* * *

The next day, Sara was nonplused to find Catherine at her door.

'Hey. Feel like a shopping trip?'

The puzzled expression on Sara's face only grew.

'He didn't call you yet, did he?'

'I'm officially lost,' Sara finally said, shaking her head in confusion. She stood back from the doorway. 'Come on in.'

Still none the wiser, Sara waited until Catherine was inside, and then shut the front door.

'Who didn't call me yet and why do you all of a sudden want to go shopping with me?'

It was Catherine's turn to shake her head, this time in disbelief. 'The lengths that man will go to, to avoid giving a speech…' At the look on Sara's face, that was rapidly going from confused to pissed off, she sighed. 'Ecklie's promotion dinner is tonight. Grissom has to speak at it, and he wants to take you. But I think he _thinks_ that if he forgets to ask you, then he won't have to go either…'

It took a moment for Sara to get her head around all of that, but when she did, she frowned. 'I'm not going.'

'Oh, come on Sara. He would have asked you eventually. But you know what he's like…'

'That isn't why I'm not going. I hate those things. Formality and me just don't mix. And I… I don't have anything to…'

'Wear?' It was Sara's turn to receive Catherine's eye-rolling treatment. 'Hence the shopping trip… I'd have thought a CSI of your caliber would have worked that out.'

'Cath… I don't know…'

'I _do._ Grab your purse.'

It rapidly became obvious that Catherine was not going to take "no" for an answer, so Sara shrugged in defeat and dutifully picked up her purse and keys. As they made for the door, the phone began to ring.

'Probably Grissom, finally calling to tell you about tonight.'

'He can invite my machine. Make him sweat for a few hours.'

Catherine gave the younger woman a look of both surprise and approval before heading out of the apartment.

As the door clicked shut, the machine began to record.

'Sara? ... Honey, I know we haven't talked for a while, but… Well… I'd like to see you… I need to… well… I need to talk to you. It's sort of… urgent. I'll… I'll call you later, okay?'

TBC.


	3. Formalities

**Disclaimer – **See Chapter One.

**Author's Note**: This chapter takes place around 'Formalities' in season 5, but not much is similar except that Ecklie still gets promoted...

* * *

Chapter Three – Formalities

Grissom was nervous. Not just the regular impending doom kind of nervous. This was real, full-blown - _Sara's going to kill me, isn't she? - _nerves. The brief conversation she has graced him with when he had called her cell had said it all.

'_Hey, Sara,' he had started, before being immediately cut off by her uncharacteristically stern tone._

'_Oh, so _now_ you've decided to call and ask me to this ball thing? 5 hours before it's due to start!'_

He considered it no small miracle that she had agreed to go.

'_Fine. Whatever. I'll see what I have hanging in the back of my closet.'_

And with a click as icy as her voice, she had hung up on him.

Now he stood staring at her front door, his brain somehow unable to send a message to his hand to knock the door. Yep, she was going to kill him. Finally, he decided to be a man and face the consequences of his cowardice. He knocked.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door slowly opened. And standing before him was nothing less than a goddess.

Draped in rich burgundy silk that caressed the gentle curves of her body and fell barely an inch short of the ground, Sara looked more elegant than he had ever seen her. The warm color of the dress made her brown hair and eyes even richer looking, and in her eyes shone not anger, but amusement.

Sara took in the conflicting emotions coming from the man before her. The scent of fear permeated the air around him. As did apprehension. _Good_. She had wanted him to suffer for just a little while before she let him off the hook. But, as he looked at her now, his mouth just ever so slightly open, she detected increasing awe, desire and just the faintest hint of lust.

Catherine was right. This most certainly was _the_ dress.

When they had walked into the fifth dress shop that afternoon, Sara had been cynical. They were never going find something she liked. Everything was too slutty, too gaudy, too ridiculous. She, she kept reminding Catherine, was not an exotic dancer. She didn't wear sequins, or low-cut, or high slits, or dresses that plunged so low in the back that underwear could not be worn.

Catherine kept insisting that they would find something. Something elegant yet sexy. Tasteful yet not _too_ modest. Something that accentuated all of Sara's attributes. Something that _'stopped just short of giving Gil a heart attack,'_ Catherine had said when she had found _the_ dress. And, to her surprise, Sara had loved it.

And so, it appeared, did Grissom.

After several moments of staring, he finally found his voice. 'You had _that dress_ hanging in the back of your closet?'

'Hell no,' she replied with a smirk. 'I just bought it today. Why? Do you like it?' Still smirking, she turned around, giving him the full show.

'You hung up on me and went shopping?'

'No, silly. I _was_ shopping when you called. With Cath.'

The penny dropped.

'So you already knew…'

'Yeah.'

'And you weren't really mad.'

She cocked an eyebrow at him. 'I wouldn't go _that_ far. I consider this a huge favor to you. And I fully expect you to pay me back. Tonight. In full.' Her smirk was both playful and seductive. "Preferably with interest."

Grissom grinned. 'I think that can be arranged. You ready to go?'

'Almost. I just need to grab my purse.'

She turned and went back into the apartment and he followed, enjoying the view. As she came back from the bedroom with her purse and a simple black chiffon shawl draped over her shoulders, he noticed a red blinking light coming from her answer machine.

'Hey. You want to check your messages before we go?'

She followed his line of vision. 'Oh, I didn't even notice. No, it can wait. If it were important, they would have gotten me on my cell. Let's go.'

* * *

As much as both Sara and Grissom claimed to hate social events, if anyone had been watching them that evening, they would have sworn that the couple was having a good time. And, that evening, a lot of people were watching them.

Catherine nodded approvingly across the room and Sara beamed back. The woman had been like a gift that day, not only helping Sara pick the dress, but booking them both in for a manicure, pedicure and an appointment at the hair stylist. It had been a long time since Sara felt this pampered and polished. And from the looks Grissom kept giving her, he more than approved.

They purposefully avoided long chats with other guests, merely traded pleasantries on their way to a secluded corner of the ballroom. Neither was particularly interested in the politics of the lab or the sheriff's department, and they certainly weren't interested in being not so subtly grilled about their new relationship. So they sat alone in their corner, talking quietly, smiling broadly, enjoying the freedom which their relationship now being public afforded them.

'Well you kids look like you're having fun.'

Two pairs of eyes, one amused, one annoyed, looked up to see Jim Brass standing beside their table.

'Mind if I join you for a minute? I'm trying to avoid the Sheriff.'

'Aren't we all,' Sara dead-paned, gesturing for Brass to sit down.

'I didn't think this was your sort of event, Jim,' Grissom remarked, his annoyed expression relaxing now that Sara had scooted round the table closer to him.

'Free buffet, free bar, my night off – what's not to love? Now _you_ I didn't expect to see here.'

Grissom made a sour face. 'Cavallo asked me to say a few words.'

Brass chuckled. 'Oh yeah. The big speech. I _knew _there was another reason for coming other than the food.'

Just then, Catherine joined them. 'Got your speech ready?'

Grissom nodded towards the cocktail napkin folded before him and she picked it up.

'_What can I say about Conrad Ecklie?_' she flipped it over, again and again, as if more words would suddenly materialize. 'Is _that_ it?'

Grissom shrugged. 'I figured I'd wing it.'

Catherine raised her eyes to heaven and followed it with a pleading glance towards Sara, who shrugged, looking more than a little amused.

Grissom accepted the extended napkin from his colleague and smiled. 'But hey, Cath, if you think you can come up with something better, you're more than welcome to take my place up there.'

Catherine smirked at him. 'Yeah. _That's _going to happen. Come on Jim. Let's go check out the buffet.'

Jim grinned at them as he got to his feet. 'You kids behave yourselves while we're gone.'

'When do you have to give this speech?' Sara asked him.

He glanced at his watch and then at her. 'Ten minutes or so.'

'Don't you think you'd better plan what to say?'

'I'll say what's expected of me. That Ecklie's a great guy, good for the lab, I'm happy he's my boss.' The words sounded like they were sticking in his throat.

'So you're going to lie in other words.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'You want me to get up there and say that Conrad Ecklie couldn't find his ass with both hands, much less run a crime lab?'

She let out a low, throaty laugh. 'You're right. The first version is better.'

Sara wasn't sure if she had ever seen Grissom so uncomfortable, including the time she had invited him to dinner and he had turned her down. He hid it well, but as he rose from their table to give his speech, the look in his eyes said it all.

However, he rose to the occasion magnificently. He kept it short and cordial; speaking of the 15 or so years he had worked alongside Conrad Ecklie, of the man's dedication to the lab and of how deserving he was of promotion. Sara doubted that anyone in the room but herself, and perhaps Catherine and Brass, could guess that it was all forced.

The look on his face when he returned to the table was that of sheer relief and it drew another laugh from Sara.

'You look like a man in need of a drink.'

He swallowed and nodded gratefully and she rose from the table as Catherine and Jim returned. When she came back with the drinks, the trio were laughing, telling anecdotes about the _real _Ecklie - the one that Cavallo and the Sheriff seemed oblivious to.

After a while, music began to play louder and couples migrated to the dance floor. Grissom caught her eye.

'Would you like to dance?'

She laughed nervously. 'Um… I don't really… dance.'

He held out his hand patiently. 'Come on. It's a piece of cake.'

It was the oddest sensation in the world, slow dancing in the middle of a crowded room with Gil Grissom. Despite the fact she could feel the cool gaze of eyes such as Ecklie's watching them, after mere moments she felt as though they were the only two people in the room. The evening was going perfectly.

Of course, Sara should have known that it wouldn't last…

Grissom had gone to the bar with Brass and Catherine was chatting to an assistant district attorney that she found fairly attractive, when Ecklie approached.

'Having fun?'

Sara fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead smiled up at the new lab Director. 'Yes. You?'

'It's been quite an evening. Grissom's speech… brought a tear to the eye.'

Her smile froze into a sneer before she could stop it. 'I'm sure.'

'So how are things going? Between the two of you.'

He saw the anger flash in her eyes before she reined it back in. Smiling smugly, he waited for a reply.

As politely as she could, she told him, 'That's none of your business.'

'I'm afraid it is, Sara.' She hated the way he said her name. 'As Director of the Lab, I have to guard against any staffing problems that might occur… any inappropriate behavior.'

'We have abided by all regulations to the letter and there has been no _inappropriate _behavior.'

He smirked. 'Well, we'll see how it goes, shall we? I'm just looking out for you Sara. I wouldn't want you to harm your career. And we all know Grissom. His career is more important than anything to him.'

Sara could say nothing, fury rising like bile in her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Grissom on his way back to the table.

'Well, I'd better go mingle. Take care, Sara.'

The double meaning was obvious in his tone. He smirked at her one last time and turned away, nodding at Grissom on his way. 'Grissom. Nice speech.'

'Conrad,' was the terse reply. Grissom sat down and looked to Sara for an explanation. 'What did he want?'

'Nothing,' she forced a smile. 'Small talk.' The thought of telling him about Ecklie's veiled threats was unthinkable at the moment. He'd either lose his temper and cause a scene, or become sullen and quiet. She would tell him later.

Grissom could tell something was wrong, but Sara clearly had no intention of telling him what. She was putting on a good show of having fun, smiling and laughing at all the appropriate moments during Jim's jokes. But the smile did not quite reach her brown eyes. When he suggested they leave a short while later, she did a poor job of hiding her relief.

* * *

Sara was quiet the whole way home, and when they entered her apartment, Grissom could no longer prevent himself from asking. 'Sara. What's wrong?'

She went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. The time she took unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink an obvious stalling tactic.

'Have I done something?'

Her eyes went wide. 'No. No, it's not you. I'm sorry; I just don't know how to tell you with out you getting really pissed off.'

'Come here.'

She moved towards him and he led her to the couch, sitting her down and taking her hand. 'Just tell me.'

'It's just something Ecklie said,' she began as the phone started to ring. Leaving her answer machine to pick up the call, she went on. 'He was making snide comments about our relationship, and…'

Anything she was about to say was forgotten as the person on the other end of the phone began to speak.

'Sara? Honey… You didn't call me back and I… I don't know if it's because you don't want to talk to me or what, but… please. Please Sara. I need to talk to you… Please. Call me when you get this. There's something important… well… I need to talk to you.'

Sara's eyes were frozen in shock, barely able to hold back the tears that had sprung up unbidden. Grissom's fingers turned white as the hand she still held was clutched with increasing but unconscious ferocity.

'Sara?' he asked, frightened by the fear her saw in her eyes. 'Who was that?'

She couldn't speak for a long time, and when her voice came it was soft and pained, almost child-like in its delivery. 'My Mother.'

TBC.


	4. Nightmares

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Four - Nightmares

Sara felt as if she had been frozen to the spot. Everything suddenly felt incredibly surreal. One moment, she had been enjoying a magical evening with Grissom. Now all of that had fallen away, to be replaced with shock and grief.

Her throat closed over, a sob building there but refusing to surface. She had no idea how long she had been standing there, but gradually she became aware that Grissom was talking to her.

'Sara?' she barely heard him say.

She dragged her eyes away from the telephone and looked at him. His expression was worried, his eyes tender. She couldn't bear to look at him and so her eyes darted away once more.

'Sara?' he tried again. 'What's wrong?'

She shook her head, whether in response to his question or to clear the images that were flooding her mind, she wasn't sure. She felt the tears building and squeezed her eyes shut to stave them off.

'Talk to me.'

It was a conversation she knew she needed to have with him. She'd accepted that. She'd planned out what she wanted to say – what she needed to tell him – in _minute_ detail. She had planned on bringing it up. She had planned on sitting him down and talking him through the horrors that had been her childhood. She had planned for his reaction. She had planned it all.

She just hadn't planned on doing it right now. And she certainly hadn't planned on her mother calling, out of the blue, while Grissom was within earshot.

Grief and fear and who knows what other emotions shuddered through her and she knew this was not the right time to tell him. She wouldn't be able to form the words.

'I can't,' she whispered. 'I can't deal with this. Not now.'

Turning away from him, she strode quickly to her bedroom and shut the door.

Grissom stared at the space she had just vacated, worry and confusion mingling in his soul. He had never seen Sara so complete shut down. He had seen her upset, angry, frustrated and even frightened, but this seemed to go beyond all of that. It was as though her entire system had gone into shock.

Not for the first time in his life, Gil Grissom felt completely helpless. Knowledge was power in his neat, orderly life. He craved knowledge like other people craved food. To know was to be in control, and at this precise moment in time, he didn't know enough about Sara's past to explain why she was so upset. And because of this, he felt completely out of control and powerless to help her.

Deciding to give her a few moments alone before going to her, he moved to the kitchen and made tea.

* * *

She was shaking from head to foot. Tears stung her cheeks and she pressed angry fists into her eyes, trying to force them into retreat.

Why now? What possible reason could her mother have for contacting her after all these years? She had last written two years before, with a change of address and contact number _'just in case you change your mind, Sara, and want to get in touch.'_

Sara didn't know how Laura Sidle had found out she'd moved to Vegas. She hadn't written back to find out.

A fresh wave of guilt swept through her like nausea. This was her _mother_. The woman had given birth to her, had raised her for the first thirteen years of her life. And yet, the thought of talking to her, of being in the same room as her, sent a chill through her heart. To face her mother was to face her past; and that was something Sara, as strong as she was in other aspects of her life, was completely unable to do.

She sat down on the corner of her bed and took a long, steadying breath. Wiping her eyes, she remembered the man she had left, alone and confused, in her living room. She'd have to explain things to Grissom. At least enough so that he wouldn't worry about her. She owed him that much.

Moving from her bedroom to the adjoining bathroom, she splashed water on her face and regarded her reflection in the mirror. Puffy red circles were an immediate give away that she'd been crying. Reaching for the compact on the counter-top beside her, she dabbed on make-up and checked the effect. Satisfied that she at least looked less of a wreck than she felt, she moved back out to the living room to face Grissom.

She found him leaning against her countertop, staring into a cup of tea that was growing colder by the second. His face was lined with worry, and she felt her heart constrict at the thought of him worrying about her. It was all he seemed to do lately.

'Hey,' she said softly and he turned, the lines on his face easing slightly as gave her a small smile.

'Hey. You okay?'

Sara shrugged. 'I… uh. I guess you want to know why I freaked out like that.'

Grissom cocked his head to one side and looked at her. 'I do. But you're not ready to tell me.'

Surprised, she frowned. 'How do you know…?'

'I'm an investigator, Sara. As… socially inept as I am, I am still fairly skilled at reading people. And I know you're not ready to talk about it.' He moved towards her and placed a hand on her cheek. 'It's enough right now to know that you want to tell me. That you're willing to tell me. And when you're ready, I'll be here to listen.'

She smiled at him in wonder. 'What did I ever do to deserve you?'

'You have that backwards, honey. I'm the one who doesn't deserve you.'

She placed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. 'How about we call it a draw and say we both deserve each other?'

He smiled broadly. 'I can live with that.'

He drew her towards him and held her close, making her feel so safe and warm that, in that moment, she felt like nothing bad could touch her. They stayed like that for the longest time, basking in each others warmth. Finally, with a certain amount of reluctance, Grissom pulled back slightly.

'I should go and let you get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.'

Sara was confused. 'Big day?'

'Oh. Didn't I tell you?' He grinned. 'Hmm. Must be a surprise then.'

'_Gris_…'

He smiled again and kissed her on the nose. 'Trust me,' he whispered. 'It'll be fun.'

When she nodded in agreement he kissed her, soft and gently on the lips. 'I'd better get going,' he told her and started towards the door.

'Grissom?'

'Mm-hmm.'

'Stay with me?'

He turned back to look at her. She looked fragile all of a sudden and his heart ached. 'Sure.'

* * *

_The smell of iron lingered, thick and cloying in the air. There was so much blood. Sticky and red, she felt as though she was covered in it from head to toe; the smell of it creeping down her nose, down her throat, making her want to wretch. _

_She stared at the cast-off on the wall, like some grotesque Pollock painting she had seen once in a book … and when she finally looked away from the wall, he was still there - dead eyes, staring blindly at her. _

_Her mother sat, curled like a child in the corner, grasping a steak-knife, sticky and red. Sticky and red. Sticky and red. The words repeated in her head, over and over, like a children's rhyme. _

_Her mother did not cry. She didn't do anything, in fact. She was just… gone - her eyes as vacant as those of the body that lay motionless on the bed._

_Laura Sidle didn't move, so Sara crept forward towards her father. She felt the bile rise up in her throat as she felt both grief and relief, horror and nothing… nothing at all. He was dead. She was free. And yet, she was not._

_His eyes locked with hers. A bloody hand reached out and grabbed her arm._

'_You worthless little bitch,' her dead father told her. 'Like mother like daughter.'_

Sara woke up screaming. Coated in sweat that at first felt like the blood in that room, she panicked, struggling to throw off the sheets that tangled round her writhing form.

'Sara?'

Grissom awoke to a train-wreck. Sobbing and shaking, when she felt him put his hands on her shoulders, she turned towards him and sank into his comforting arms, seeking sanctuary from her nightmares.

_No. Not nightmares. _

Nightmares were a fiction. Her memories were real. Over and over, she could hear the viciousness in her father's voice, as he punched her again and again, telling her how worthless she was, telling her how like her mother she was.

He had beaten her to within an inch of unconsciousness, like she had seen him do to her mother for years. And that, in the end, had been the last straw for Laura Sidle.

Still haunted by those words, Sara cried herself to sleep in the arms of a man she knew would never treat her like that.

* * *

She was closer to her old self again when morning came, but dark circles told of a night of little rest. Grissom made it clear that he would press her for no information that she would not willingly give, but he still eyed her cautiously all through breakfast.

After breakfast, he left her for an hour to 'get things ready' and returned with a picnic basket brimming with fruit, snacks and pasta salad.

'What's going on?' she asked.

'Told you,' he smiled in reply. 'It's a surprise…'

They spent the day at Lake Mead, stretched out and relaxing in the sun. In the warmth of the Nevada afternoon, by a crystal blue lake and sitting hand in hand with the man of her dreams, Sara's earlier nightmares seemed very far away. And, for a moment at least, she allowed herself to forget.

* * *

Grissom had taken four days off work, the remainder of Sara's leave. On the second day, they lazed around his townhouse, reading journals, watching movies, making love. Not that she complained, but for someone usually so active, Sara was still having the culture shock of her life not being at work for such a long period of time. So she suggested they find a project for their remaining two free days.

Grissom's hand paused in its caress of her skin when the suggestion was made, and he smirked. '_This_ could be our project.'

Her laugh, when it came, was deep and throaty and, most importantly, genuine. Grissom huffed out a sigh of relief. In the two days since the phone call, he hadn't once heard her laugh.

'Has the workaholic finally decided to slow down?' she asked him.

'The 'workaholic' has found another workaholic with whom he'd like to slow down,' he replied. 'Just a little,' he qualified.

She rolled over and kissed him. 'Well, tomorrow you can slow down in my apartment and watch me paint my bathroom.'

* * *

'No woman should look _that_ good in overalls,' he commented appreciatively. She was wearing an old pair of overalls from the lab and they hugged her in all the right places.

Smiling suggestively, she wiggled her butt at him.

'You really went to town with this 'home make-over' thing, didn't you?'

'Well, you know me. I don't do things by halves.'

Grissom was sitting on the floor, in the hall outside the bathroom, drinking a beer and watching her work. He had tried to help, but she refused to let him, saying – 'I like the idea of my workaholic entomologist kicking back and doing nothing for a little while. Besides, you'll only be under my feet.'

He had only agreed not to help when she had promised to engage in his suggested 'project' once the bathroom was finished.

Glancing down the hall to the living room, he cocked his head in contemplation. 'I kind of miss the purple.'

'Oh yeah? Tough,' she grinned as her cell phone began to ring. Wiping her hands on a rag, she picked it up off the counter. 'Sidle.' Her smile faded instantly.

Grissom grew more concerned every moment she spent on the phone. Sara's whole body had tensed; gone was her happy demeanor of moments ago, now replaced with a frown and a clipped telephone manner. He caught words like 'trial' and 'testimony', and realized who she was speaking to.

'Brian,' she told him when she disconnected the call with the Assistant DA. 'He wants to meet me tomorrow about Jill's trial.'

'Three days time,' he recalled. 'I'd forgotten.'

Sara smiled joylessly. 'I hadn't.'

TBC.


	5. CrossExamination

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Five – Cross-Examination

'Thank you, Ms Sidle. No further questions, Your Honor.'

Sara felt emotionally drained. She had relieved the entire nightmare; everything from Hank's murder to her own kidnapping ordeal. She had tried to imagine she was giving evidence as she always did. Detached. Scientific. It didn't work on this occasion. She felt only raw and broken inside.

She wished that she could get up and leave the stand now, but answering the DA's questions had been the easy part of her testimony. It was now the defense's turn to question her. And by the look on Helen Spencer's face, her cross-examination would be anything but easy.

'Ms Sidle, you had a relationship with the victim, isn't that right?' Spencer began.

Having a feeling of where this was going, Sara took a deep breath and nodded. 'Yes. A few years ago.'

'While he was in a relationship with someone else?'

'I didn't know that at the time.'

'And you were angry when you found out, weren't you.'

Yeah, Sara definitely saw where this was going. 'I was hurt…'

'You were _angry_,' the lawyer insisted. 'You said as much in an email to the accused.'

'Of course, I was angry. But…'

'You felt _betrayed_. This man you thought you were in a relationship with was not only _cheating_ on you, but he'd turned you into the _other woman_. Didn't that make you feel cheap? Used? Worthless?'

'Objection!' The DA sprang to his feet. 'The Defense is baiting the witness.'

'Sustained. Ms Spencer, please get to your point,' the Judge said firmly.

'Did you wish him harm, Ms Sidle?' Spencer had changed tack, lowering her voice, sounding almost sympathetic.

'No. I did not.'

'But my client, your former _best_ friend, received emails from you, where you stated, and I quote, _'He deserves a world of pain, and more. I'd kill him if I thought I could get away with it.' _But you claim now that you didn't wish him harm?'

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but the DA got there first. 'Objection Your Honor! There is no evidence of any such emails having ever existed. They are a figment of the defendant's imagination, trying to draw attention away from her guilt.'

'Sustained. The jury will disregard the defense's last statement.'

Sara could feel the anger bubbling up within her. It didn't matter that the judge had the bogus emails stricken from the record. The defense knew that would happen even before mentioning them. But it didn't matter. She was throwing everything she could at Sara, hoping some of the mud would stick; hoping that if she tainted Sara enough, Jill would look less guilty.

'You are a criminalist with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, are you not, Ms Sidle?'

'That's correct.'

'And as such, you are well versed in what is commonly known as 'the perfect crime'?'

Another stab of anger. 'It's been my experience that there is no such thing. The evidence never lies.'

'But that all depends on who's doing the interpreting, doesn't it?' Spencer smiled ruefully. 'As a CSI, you are an expert on evidence such as fingerprints and ballistics, isn't that correct?'

'As much as any other CSI in the country,' Sara was finding it difficult to keep the bite out of her voice.

Spencer smiled again, making her features draw back to resemble something startlingly like a viper. 'Don't be so modest, Ms Sidle. I've heard that you are one of the best criminalists in your lab.'

Sara said nothing, so the lawyer went on. 'Isn't it fair to say, Ms Sidle, that with your level of expertise in crime scene investigation, it would be all too easy for you to have falsified evidence in this case?'

The DA bounced to his feet, another objection on his lips, but Sara had already started to voice one of her own.

'No, it wouldn't be fair to say that. I had absolutely nothing to do with the evidence in this case. I wasn't assigned to it.'

'But you had access to the evidence, didn't you,' the lawyer wouldn't let up. 'It was kept at the lab where you work, wasn't it?'

'But I didn't have access to it,' Sara insisted firmly, becoming more exasperated by the minute. 'Only the CSIs assigned to the case had access to the evidence.'

The viper smirked. 'In that case, perhaps your _boyfriend_ helped you out?'

Sara's eyes narrowed at the snake before her. It was one thing dragging her name through the muck, but Grissom…?

'Excuse me?' her voice was low and dangerously calm.

'You _are_ romantically involved with your boss, Gil Grissom, aren't you? The man who headed up the investigation against my client.'

'I don't see what that had to…'

Spencer cut her off. 'Are you involved with him? _Yes or no_, Ms Sidle.'

Sara felt her heart stop. She could see a ghost of a smile playing on Jill's lips at the defense's table. She was being hung out to dry and the murdering bitch was enjoying every last moment of it.

'Yes. But we weren't together at the time of the investigation.'

'So this newfound romance is what? Payment in kind for services rendered?'

'Objection!' The DA's face was turning purple with rage.

'Sustained!' The Judge, clearly growing weary of the defenses tactics, peered over her glasses at the lawyer. 'Watch yourself, Ms Spencer.'

Spencer took a step closer to the bench but angled herself so that she was addressing both the judge _and_ the jury. 'Your Honor, my client claims that evidence in this case was falsified, that members of the Las Vegas Crime Lab set her up in order to protect one of their own. This line of questioning goes straight to the veracity of the witness.'

The judge sighed. 'You are on exceedingly thin icy, Ms Spencer. Watch where you skate.'

Nodding, the lawyer faked a look of contrition. 'Just a couple more questions,' she said, turning back towards Sara.

'Ms Sidle, you were in care for a number of years, were you not?'

Sara furrowed her brow. Now where was this leading? 'I was,' she replied, the trepidation she was feeling announcing itself via a quaver in her voice.

'For what reason?'

Sara froze. Surely she didn't have to say it… 'My mother wasn't able to look after us. My brother and me.'

'And _why_ was that?'

Sara didn't answer. Her heart felt like someone's fist was wrapped around it, squeezing tightly.

'Let me put it this way. Where was your father?'

When Sara still couldn't answer, Spencer moved closer to the witness stand. Her voice was quiet, conspiratorial almost, but loud enough so it carried to the jury's stand, as well as the rest of the assembled audience of on-lookers.

'Isn't it true, Ms Sidle, that you were placed in care when your mother stabbed your father to death, right in front of you?'

A collective gasp filled the room, as though all the air had suddenly been sucked out. In the vacuum, no one made a sound. Sara could feel countless pairs of eyes boring into her, waiting for her to answer. Echoes of her nightmares, of the reality of the horrific event she had witnessed as a child, of the vicious lawyer's words, all rang through her mind. She felt like they were all pushing in on her, crushing her chest, making it impossible to breathe.

Through the ringing in her ears, she could barely hear Spencer speaking to the judge. 'Your Honor?'

'Ms Sidle,' the Judge's voice broke through her haze. 'Please answer the question.'

'Yes.' The voice didn't sound like her own. It sounded far away and very small. Not strong and independent, like the persona she had fought long and hard to create for herself. To her own ears, Sara suddenly sounded like a victim.

'An event like that… it's bound to have a profound effect on a person,' Spencer was now saying. 'You certainly learned at an early age how to deal with men who hurt you…'

'Objection!' the DA finally jumped to Sara's defense.

'Get to your point, Ms Spencer,' the Judge insisted. And Spencer did just that.

'Your DNA was found at the crime scene. Your fingerprint. Your car was videotaped at the scene at the time of the crime. As was a person matching your description. Your gun was the murder weapon. Your philandering ex-boyfriend was the victim. Do you _really_ expect this jury to believe that you had _nothing_ to do with the murder?'

'Yes. Because I had _nothing_ to do with it,' Sara replied. Sara's temper was getting the better of her now and she started doing what the DA had warned her against. Talking back… 'If I'm an _expert_ criminalist, as you stated, would I really have used my own gun, my own car, been as sloppy to have left evidence?'

Playing to the jury now, and looking like she was thoroughly enjoying herself, Spencer shrugged. 'Maybe you were counting on that as your alibi. Preparing to say 'it couldn't have been me; I would have covered my tracks better'…'

'Objection! The witness is _not_ the one on trial here!'

'Maybe she should be,' Spencer ploughed on, in her groove now, ignoring a steady stream of objections from the DA. 'I put it to you, Ms Sidle, that you were not a helpless victim in this, not even a willing accomplice, but the orchestrator of the murder. You were not kidnapped by my client, but were having a heated exchange with her at the murder scene. And only when you told her you were setting her up to take the fall for the crime _you_ committed, only then did she threaten you with violence.'

Sara's temper snapped. 'That's bullshit! She tried to set _me_ up, and then she tried to kill me!'

'Objection Your Honor! This is outrageous!'

'Sustained! Ms Spencer, one more outburst like that and I'll find you in contempt.'

Spencer smiled. She had said all she wanted to say. 'No more questions, Your Honor.' She threw a look of contempt at Sara. 'I'm done with this witness.'

The DA was on his feet before the defense attorney has even made it back to her chair.

'Redirect, Your Honor?' he asked, moving forward. Without waiting for reply, his eyes locked on Sara's. 'Ms Sidle. Did you conspire with Jill Davenport to murder Hank Pettigrew?'

Without hesitation, Sara replied firmly. 'No. I did not.'

'And did Jill Davenport attack you, kidnap and threaten you? Did she take you to the site of her previous murder, tie you to a chair and try to kill you?'

Her eyes now locked on Jill's, who looked almost triumphant as she sat watching the testimony. _I will not let her win, _Sara thought as she responded to the DA's question. 'Yes. She did.'

* * *

As Sara stormed through the doors of the courthouse, the first sight that greeted her was the sympathetic look in Warrick Brown's eyes. Her fury at what she had just been subjected to was temporarily replaced with gut wrenching humiliation, as she realized that her colleague and friend had just heard everything. Everything she had tried to keep hidden for so long. And she wished that she had been firmer in her insistence that she didn't need anyone to accompany her to the courthouse that day.

Grissom had wanted to come, of course, but the DA advised against it. He was due to testify the next day – the defense might try to make it look like witness tampering if he accompanied Sara before giving his own testimony.

Since Warrick had already testified, he volunteered for the job.

'I don't need to be baby-sat,' she had insisted to Grissom.

'I know. But Warrick's happy to go with you. He offered. And it's not baby-sitting. It's support. Please. I'd feel better knowing that _someone_ was with you.'

So she'd relented. And now it was coming back to haunt her.

Warrick seemed uncharacteristically nervous as Sara approached him. Without pausing, she headed towards the exit, adjusting her speed to allow her friend to fall into step with her.

'Are you okay?' he asked hesitantly.

'Sure,' she replied, for all her efforts not keeping the sarcastic bite out of her voice. 'Just peachy.'

'God damn lawyers,' he spat. 'That was an ink job, that's what that was. Just ink in the water. Knows her client is as guilty as sin, so she's trying to churn up as much crap to hide that fact. Don't let it get to you, girl.'

Sara's jaw was clenched, the anger at the injustice of it all preventing her from replying.

'Sara. If you want to talk, or…'

They'd reached the car and from the look in Warrick's eyes, Sara could tell that he only wanted to help. But she couldn't hear it right now. Couldn't talk about it. She just felt sick to her stomach.

'Warrick…'

'Sara, I know you jive on being this strong woman who doesn't need anyone. But, we're here for you…'

For the second time that day, Sara felt like a victim and the anger that this churned up inside her threatened to unleash itself upon her unsuspecting friend. _He's only trying to help_, she told herself. _He's not the one you're mad at._ So she took a deep breath and swallowed the sharp words that had been ready on her tongue.

'Warrick, I know. And I appreciate it. I do. Really.' Another deep breath. 'But I _can't_ talk about this right now. I just want to get to work. Okay?'

He looked like there was a whole lot more he wanted to say, but instead he simply nodded and climbed into the driver's seat of the SUV.

* * *

Catherine was on her cell phone as Warrick and Sara entered the break room.

'Whoa, Jim, slow down,' she said. 'Where's Grissom? --- Oh --- I know, I know, it _can't _wait. But I'm on my way out the door to a double homicide off the Strip and I need to take Warrick with me. --- Its Nick's night off...'

Sara caught Catherine's eye and mouthed _'What is it?'_ to the strawberry blonde CSI. _'Kidnapping'_ Catherine mouthed back while still listening to Brass.

'I'll take it,' Sara announced.

Relieved, Catherine practically sighed down the phone. 'Sara will meet you there,' she told the police Captain before disconnecting the call.

Turning to the brunette in front of her, Catherine smiled warmly. 'Hey. Welcome back. How'd court…'

'Don't ask,' Sara cut her off, gesturing towards the notebook in which Catherine had been writing down the details Jim has passed on. 'Where am I meeting Brass?'

'Henderson. There's the address,' Catherine said as she handed Sara the paper. 'Grissom had a case there last week. A 417. Seems the husband's come back and snatched the kids.'

Sara's face became a mask at the mention of the 417 – a domestic abuse case. Today of all days.

'Brass has already spoken to Grissom. He's at another scene, but he'll be in Henderson as soon as possible. Until then, it's all yours.'

'Thanks. Later.'

Ignoring Warrick's worried look, she practically ran out of the room.

* * *

Brass looked grave when he met Sara at the scene.

'We were out here a week ago. Domestic abuse. Wife finally saw sense after who knows how many years and was granted a TRO against her husband, Mike Harper, six days ago. About an hour ago, she was in the kitchen fixing dinner when she heard the front door being smashed in. Ran into the living room and found her husband grabbing the kids. He smashed the place up pretty good, hit her a couple of times for good measure and took off with the little girl and boy, Jane aged 9 and Mikey, 7.'

'And Mrs. Harper? How's she?'

'Banged up, but in one piece, considering. She called us within moments of her ex running off, so he doesn't have too big a head start. We've got a BOLO out on his car. Nothing yet.'

They'd reached the front door, which stood ajar. Through it, she could see a sobbing woman, battered and shaking. It was an all too familiar sight.

Taking a deep breath, Sara went inside.

* * *

The scene in the living room was chaos. Furniture was overturned; broken glass littered the carpeted floor… Rage, Sara thought inwardly. Uncontrolled rage.

As she shot off picture after picture of scene photographs, she could hear the mother sobbing in the kitchen. Paramedics had already been to check her over. Mild concussion, bruising, a few cuts. She had gotten off lightly - this time. She refused point blank to go to the hospital for a more thorough examination. She wanted to be here, hoping that it would all be put right and her children would be returned to her.

Half an hour later, she'd photographed the scene, lifted a few fingerprints from the door handle and the overturned furniture and bagged her evidence, which included a book of matches for a bar called _The Cue Ball_. Intent on asking Mrs. Harper about it, she made her way into the kitchen where Brass was still interviewing her.

'So go over the last time you saw your husband for me,' Brass was saying. 'Prior to today.'

'It was last week. Right before I called the police,' the woman sniffled. 'He kept on beating me until he heard the sirens. Then he ran off. I hadn't seen him until he showed up here and started smashing the place.'

'Any idea where he was staying this past week?'

She shook her head. 'I don't know.'

'How about the other times that he left after the beatings? Do you know where he stayed then?'

'He would normally only leave for one night,' she said, shaking her head again, her voice thick with pain. 'Then he'd come back here until he beat me again.'

Sara stood listening to this from just inside the kitchen door. The sight of the woman, sobbing and bruised at the kitchen table, reminded her forcefully of her own past, and she felt the anger building in her once more.

'How could you stay?'

The words were out of her mouth before she'd even stopped to consider them.

The woman looked up at her with bloodshot and tear-stained eyes, confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'How could you stay here, with a man who beat you? Terrorized you in front of your children? How could you do that to them?'

Brass's eyes were like saucers. 'Sara,' he warned.

But Sara couldn't let it go. She was becoming angrier and more upset with every second that ticked by. 'Your children depend on _you_ to protect them. How could you subject them to living with that monster day after day?'

'Sara! That's enough!'

She turned to see Grissom in the doorway, shocked and angry.

* * *

Sara made her way into her apartment and slumped down on the couch, utterly disgusted with herself. She couldn't believe she'd lost her temper with a victim. She'd done it before with suspects, but even when she knew it was a bad move on her part, she had still felt justified. But now she just felt… sick.

Grissom's appearance at the house had snapped her back to her senses. Turning to the stricken mother, she had stammered an apology before leaving the house, Grissom hot on her heels.

He'd sent her home after voicing his concern over her tendency to become too emotionally involved in her cases. He asked if something had happened in court that day to set her off. She promised to tell him after the shift end.

So now she sat in her living room, counting down the minutes until he'd be at her door, fighting nausea and trying to find the words she needed him to hear.

When he appeared at her door in the cold light of dawn, the anger had all but evaporated from his features. It had been replaced by an overwhelming concern for her that broken her heart. She had never wanted him to worry about her. She had never wanted anyone to worry about her.

He crossed the threshold into her apartment, but didn't touch her. He sensed the distance that was radiating off her like a white-hot star. Physical intimacy would only make this discussion harder. There would be time for him to hold and comfort her later. She moved round behind an easy chair, putting the piece of furniture in between them as if to emphasis the point.

'Mrs. Harper has accepted your apology and she's not going to lodge a complaint,' he finally said after a deafening silence. 'But, you've got to realize, if this had happened in front of anyone other than me and Brass… if Ecklie had caught wind of it, he would have _made _me suspend you.'

'I know,' she whispered.

'Sara, I know I said you should wait until you were ready to talk about this,' he told her. 'But it's affecting your work. It's affecting _you_. I think… I think you _need _to talk about this.'

Even from across the room, he could see she was shaking. She looked away from him and nodded.

'Why are you so angry?'

* * *

Catherine and Warrick were just coming off of shift and wearily gathering their belongings in the locker room when Greg stormed in.

'Have you guys seen this morning's paper yet?' he asked them angrily.

They were both nonplussed. 'No,' Catherine replied. 'Why?'

As if it was a piece of filth, Greg slapped the newspaper down on the bench between the two CSIs so they could see the headline and the damning article that ran with it.

"_**Key Witness in Murder Trial Discredited on the Stand:**_

_Crime Scene Investigator Sara Sidle's credibility was questioned in court today as information came to light about her troubled past._

_Not only was Sidle the former lover of the murder victim, EMT Hank Pettigrew, but it also immerged during cross-examination that, as a child, she witnessed the murder of her father – by her own mother."_

_TBC._


	6. Sara Speaks

**Author's Note** - This chapter is dedicated to the Sacred Duct Tape (the guys at TalkCSI will know what I mean... ;) )

**Disclaimer - **See Chapter One.

* * *

Chapter Six – Sara Speaks 

Catherine's eyes went wide as she picked up the newspaper and started to read. Shock turned to disbelief.

'This is bullshit. They can't publish crap like this and get away with it!' she exclaimed angrily.

'Exactly!' Greg joined in her rant. 'I say we call up Sara and tell her we'll back her one hundred percent when she sues their asses!'

Catherine's eyes continued to scan the page, her anger building. 'This is that bitch Jill's doing. Trying to throw the prosecution off, weaken the case against her…'

'Sara would have told us. Right?' Greg stated. 'We would know if any of that stuff was true.'

The young CSI looked to Catherine for reassurance, but her gaze was now locked on Warrick, who had an oddly uncomfortable look on his face.

'Warrick?' she asked, suddenly suspicious. 'You know something, don't you?'

He sighed, not wanting to be the one to tell them, knowing it was not his place, but knowing all too well that the truth was now destined to come out. Nothing he could do now would stop that.

'I guess there's no point in lying to you guys, you're going to find out anyway,' he started, his eyes deadened by the pain he knew his friend must being going through. 'Sara was torn apart on the witness stand yesterday by the defense attorney. She was accused of being involved in Hank's murder and all sorts of bullshit. And then the subject of her childhood came up…'

Both Catherine and Greg were stunned. 'You mean, this is all true?' Catherine asked in disbelief. 'Everything they're saying about Sara's Mom killing her Dad and the fact that she saw it happen?'

Sadly, Warrick nodded. 'Looks like it.'

* * *

'My Father never laid a hand on me until that day,' Sara told him in a soft voice filled with emotions that were strangling her. 'I used to lie awake at night, listening to their voices – my Dad yelling and my Mom sobbing… sometimes screaming, begging him to stop. The next day, she'd be quiet, trying to hide her bruises or broken bones from me and my brother. But we knew… we always knew…'

As she recounted her story, she had slowly moved around the armchair and sat down, as though telling her tale exhausted her. Grissom took her lead and sat down in the chair opposite, not wanting to crowd her while she put herself through the harrowing task of telling him about her past. As she spoke, he saw the tears blossom in her brown eyes, but stubborn as she was, they had so far refused to fall.

'One night, when I was twelve, I was home alone with my Mom. My brother, Matt, was seventeen at that point, and he was out more than he was at home. Anyway, Dad came home, drunk – as usual. And he started screaming at my Mom… you know, I can't even remember why… And then he started punching her. Just punching, over and over again. And… I don't know what made that time different from the others, but something made me run forward and try to pull him off of her. And so he started in on me… I was barely conscious when he finally got bored and went to find something else to drink.'

Grissom made an unconscious gesture, as though he was ready to rush off to find the monster who had dared to lay a hand on the precious woman before him. Instead, he reached across the space between them and laid his hand on hers.

'Oh god, Sara,' he whispered, truly horrified by what she had endured as a child. 'Were you badly hurt?'

'Somehow, he managed not to break any bones. He beat my face up pretty good. Concussion, lots of cuts and bruises,' she stated clinically, as though documenting the injuries of a victim in a case, not her own. 'We lay there for a long time, my Mom and me, not daring to move until we heard Dad go upstairs and into the bedroom. Then, Mom got up and went into the kitchen before climbing the stairs after him…

'When she didn't come back down, I got scared, so I went upstairs to see what had happened. She…' only now did Sara's voice catch in her throat. 'She was huddled in a corner of the bedroom with a knife. There was blood everywhere, cast off all over the walls and the floor…' Sara choked on the sob building in her throat. 'She had waited until he passed out drunk and then stabbed him to death.'

The tears ran freely down her face now. Grissom closed the gap between them to perch on the arm of her chair and gathered her up into his arms.

When she could speak again, she sounded utterly defeated. 'She told them, Grissom. She told them everything.'

Confused, he drew back to look at her. 'I don't understand.'

'_Jill,_' she spat, anger now replacing the sorrow in her voice. 'Jill. It all came out in court today. My childhood. My past with Hank. My relationship with you…'

'How did she find out about your childhood? Did you tell her?' he probed gently.

Sara nodded, feeling stupid and naïve for once counting Jill among her friends. 'I told her some of it… we had a night of drunken confessions… she was the only one I ever told. The rest… I don't know. She did her research about everything else, so…'

She tailed off, a sudden thought crossing her mind. She looked at Grissom, suddenly fearful.

'If my involvement has hurt the case against her…'

'It won't,' he reassured her. 'She's guilty, Sara. The jury will see that. I promise.'

He held her close again, knowing in his heart that he was handing her false promises. All Jill needed was reasonable doubt. It was the cornerstone of their justice system, something that had brought down many a case that looked like a slam dunk.

Another bout of silence and Sara was once again overcome with her emotions. Only when she was calmer did she attempt to speak again. 'Grissom, I'm so sorry about earlier. I had no right to speak to Mrs. Harper like that.'

Grissom ran a comforting hand down her hair. 'You were upset.'

'Hearing from my Mom, what happened in court and everything going on lately, I…' she started to say before stopping herself abruptly. Sitting back and withdrawing from his arms, she wiped the tears from her face and shook her head. 'No. You know what? I'm just making excuses. I had no right to speak to her like that, regardless of what's going on in my personal life. I let myself down and I let you down. It won't happen again.'

Watching her now was like seeing a willow tree bend in a storm but refuse to break. Sara was rebuilding herself before his eyes and, despite his inherent need to try and protect her, he couldn't help but be impressed. He nodded in agreement, knowing full well that his Sara, having declared something so definitely, would do nothing less than fulfill her words.

'I think I'm going to go over there, later,' she told him. 'Apologize properly. And… if you let me, I'd very much like to stay on this case.'

Grissom hesitated. 'Only if you feel that you're up to it.'

Anger flashed in her eyes that would have frightened him were it aimed in his direction. 'I'm not going to let all this affect my ability to do the job anymore. I will _not_ let Jill turn me into her victim. Not anymore.'

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Sara stirred, feeling his eyes on her. Blinking her own eyes open, she smiled at the image of him watching her sleep; barely stirring the air around her as his hand gently caressed a lock of her hair that spilled across the pillow.

'Hey,' she greeted him softly.

'Hey,' was his reply as he stooped to kiss her on the forehead. 'I have to go.'

'Yeah?' She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 'It's barely midday. You're not going into work this early are you?'

He shook his head, reaching to brush a strand of hair off of her face. 'I'm due in court.'

The smile slid off her face. 'Oh.' She sat up, half turning her body away from him. 'Can I come with you?' she asked hesitantly.

'You don't really want to do that, do you?'

Shrugging, she avoided his gaze. 'Not really. But I feel like I should. Whatever grilling you get in there today will be my fault, so…'

Grissom slid a hand underneath her chin and pulled her face round to face him. 'We've been over this, Sara. It's not your fault. And I think you went through enough in that courthouse yesterday without putting yourself through it again today. I'll be fine. I have it on good authority that I can handle myself on the witness stand.'

Despite herself, she smiled. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her in a bear hug, her impossibly long legs snaking around his body. She let out a soft moan as he buried his face in her neck, placing butterfly kisses from her shoulder to her ear. As the sunk backwards onto the bed, his mouth captured hers in a series of soft, sweet kisses.

After a moment, he groaned and rolled onto his side. 'I have to go.'

'I know,' she sighed. 'Raincheck?'

Placing the briefest of kisses on her lips, he smiled. 'Count on it.'

Getting up, he moved to the chair where he had placed his clothes. Sara sat up in bed and pulled the covers around her as she watched him dress.

'So, what are you planning to do with the rest of your day before work?' he asked.

'I think I'll take a drive out to Henderson.'

'To see Mrs. Harper?'

She nodded, watching his face for a reaction. She could see him struggle to keep his face neutral.

'Are you sure you're…'

Frustrated, she sat up straighter. 'Grissom, stop worrying about me. I'm fine.'

He watched her closely for a moment, before nodding. 'Okay.' Getting to his feet, he grabbed his jacket. 'I'd better get going. I need to shower and grab my suit at home. I'll see you tonight?'

'Count on it,' she smiled as she kissed him goodbye.

* * *

Sara felt her heart ache as she pulled up in front of the quiet house. It was a beautiful day, sunny with a faint breeze present to take the edge off the desert heat. It was the prefect day for two children to be out, playing in their yard. Instead, the house was as still as the tomb.

Sara knocked on the door and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head as it opened.

Mrs. Harper looked vaguely surprised to see her there. 'Ms. Sidle. Have you found them?'

Sara shook her head sadly. 'Not yet. I'm sorry.'

Any gleam of hope that was present in the woman's eyes was extinguished. 'Oh,' was all she could say before they stood there in painful silence.

After a moment, the woman pulled herself out of her reverie enough to realize they were still on her doorstep. 'I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Come on in.'

They made their way to her kitchen and she went to the kettle to fill it. 'Coffee?'

Sara nodded. 'Please.'

Switching on the kettle, she once again turned to the brunette CSI. 'So, do you have more questions?'

'Mrs. Harper,' Sara started hesitantly. 'I actually came to apologize for the way I spoke to you yesterday.'

'You already did that,' the woman replied. 'There's really no need…'

'There is,' Sara insisted. 'I had no right to talk to you like that. It was totally unprofessional, not to mention uncalled for.'

They were silent again until she handed Sara her coffee. 'I tried to leave. So many times…' she said. 'Unless someone has lived through that kind of terror, they could never understand…'

'Believe me, I know.'

The woman searched Sara's face. 'You do. Don't you? But I find it hard to believe that a woman like you would let a man… well…'

Sara shook her head. 'My Mother. My entire life up until I was twelve,' Sara clarified. 'What I said to you yesterday… well, it was directed at her, not at you. I'm sorry.'

Mrs. Harper nodded again, tears blossoming in her eyes. 'So, you really know what I've put my kids through, then, don't you?'

Sara leaned forward and placed her hand on the crying woman's. 'Your _husband _put you and your kids through it, Mrs. Harper. _Not you_.'

'If you really believe that, then why are you still so angry with your own mother?'

Sara looked away and sighed, fighting back her own tears that were forming. 'I'm angry with my mother for not leaving because it's easier than facing why I'm really mad at her.'

'I can only hope my kids forgive me one day,' she replied, her voice choking up. 'If I ever see them again…'

Sara squeezed her hand. 'Mrs. Harper, I swear to you. I'm going to do everything in my power to get your children back.'

The woman nodded, granting her a weak smile through her tears. 'Thank you, Ms. Sidle. Thank you.'

'Please. Call me Sara.'

'Did she ever leave, Sara?' When Sara didn't answer right away, she clarified. 'Your mother.'

'In a manner of speaking…'

* * *

Sara's first clue that all was not well was that the break-room fell silent the second she walked in.

Glancing around nervously, she headed straight for the coffee pot. Tea was soothing. She had a feeling there would be no point in soothing herself this night. She'd need caffeine, and lots of it.

'Hey Sara,' Greg greeted her a little too brightly after the long delay. 'How are you?'

She eyed him suspiciously. 'I'm fine Greg. What's up?'

He nervously shook his head and immediately looked at Catherine for support. Catherine in her turn was looking at him with disgust at how obvious he was being.

'Catherine?' Sara asked, looking at her normally forthcoming friend. 'What's going on?'

Her voice was a little too gentle, a little too supportive, when she rose to her feet and moved towards her. 'Sara, maybe we'd better go someplace less… public. To talk.'

'What about?' Sara's eyes found Warrick's, and in his deep green eyes she saw sorrow and regret. 'Warrick! What did you tell them?'

He held his hands up in defense. 'I…'

Nick leaned forward, drawing Sara's eyes to him next. 'We want you to know we're here for you.'

She was completely freaked out now. 'Will someone please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?'

Catherine once more tried to usher Sara out but didn't get very far before the voice of the lab's new Assistant Director barked from the doorway.

'Sidle! My office. _Now!_'

* * *

When Grissom entered the room not five minutes later, he could still feel the tension.

'What's going on?'

Catherine slid the newspaper across the table so he could see the headline. 'Did you know?' she asked.

A vein throbbed in his forehead as he looked at the paper. 'She just told me. This morning.' He looked at Catherine, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions. 'Where is she?'

'Ecklie's just pulled her into his office.'

His face settled on cold fury as he turned on his heel and left the room.

* * *

He was a man on a mission as he strode down the corridor.

'Gil!' Brass's voice made his step falter but not halt on his journey.

'I'm in a hurry, Jim,' he called over his shoulder. 'I'll talk to you later.'

Footsteps behind him as Brass hurried to keep up. 'This won't wait,' the homicide detective told him. 'There's been a new development on the case. We've found one of the kids.'

That stopped Grissom dead in his tracks. He spun to face his friend. 'Alive?'

'Barely,' Jim replied, looking sick to his stomach. 'Bastard beat the kid into a coma. He's in Desert Palms. Need you and Sara to go over there and… well… you know...'

Grissom nodded. 'I was just on my way to get her. We'll meet you at the hospital.'

Brass nodded and walked back the way he came, muttering under his breath about the injustices of the world.

TBC


	7. Slings and Arrows

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Seven – Slings & Arrows 

Sara figured she know knew a little of what the Christians must have felt in Ancient Rome when they were about to be fed to the lions.

Ecklie looked livid, complete with pulsating vein in his forehead and cheeks flushed scarlet. As she entered the office, she saw that he had a newspaper clutched in his hands.

'Shut the door, Sara.' She did so and walked towards the desk. 'Have a seat.'

Sara sat down carefully, trying to keep the puzzled look off her face. Had Ecklie heard about her behavior towards Mrs. Harper yesterday? Or was this about what happened in court?

Instead, he totally threw her for a loop. Sliding the newspaper across the desk at her, he searched her face for a reaction. 'Mind telling me what the hell this is?'

As Sara's eyes scanned the front page, she felt like she'd swallowed a gallon of freezing cold water. This couldn't be happening to her. Not now.

Tears of confusion, of anger and of shock swam in her eyes. Her entire life, spilled out in black and white for the whole world to see. Details she had hidden from the world for twenty years. Details she had only just been able to bring herself to telling Grissom…

_Grissom…_ She looked at the date of the newspaper – it was that morning's edition. Had Grissom already read the article's contents before he came to see her this morning? Was that why he'd finally pushed her to telling him about her past? And if so, why hadn't he told her… prepared her for what the rest of the world now knew about her? No wonder Greg and Catherine and the others had been acting strangely when she arrived in the break room…

Sara suddenly realized that Ecklie was speaking to her.

'Sara!'

Shaking off her internalization, she looked up at the lab Director, trying to forge her facial expression into something fairly neutral. She knew she was failing miserably.

'How did the press get these details about your past? Details which, for some unknown reason, you neglected to include in your personnel files.'

'I have no idea how the press got any of this,' she replied, her voice cold and brittle. 'I've kept what happened in my childhood very private. And as for my personnel file, my childhood has no bearing on my ability to do the job, so it's none of yours or anyone else's business what happened to me twenty years ago.'

Ecklie's eyes narrowed. 'I beg to differ, Sara. It's very much my business when _your past_ threatens to derail a murder conviction and drag down the reputation of this lab.'

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but Ecklie cut her off. 'I've have the District Attorney on the phone for more than an hour today. Needless to say, he's livid. Your involvement in this case has called all of our evidence into question. Your… unstable past, coupled with your involvement with the victim _and_ the suspect is being exploited by the defense. Surely you figured that out yesterday while you were on the stand?'

Sara nodded, and looked away.

'And, if that wasn't bad enough, Grissom got torn to shreds while giving his testimony today.'

Sara's eyes snapped back to Ecklie. 'What!'

'Have you any idea how many times Grissom's professionalism or objectivity has been called into question on the stand during his long and illustrious career?' Ecklie asked her, not bothering to hide the distain in his voice. When Sara didn't answer, he went on. '_Never_. Until today. Now, I know Gil and I don't always see eye to eye, but even I have to admit he's a hell of a CSI and his expertise in his field has been one of this labs greatest assets. And now…'

He left his statement hanging in the air.

It was a while before Sara found her voice again. 'What… what happens now.'

'I'm going to have to launch a full enquiry into the handling of this case, to ensure that the defense cannot claim that Grissom was influenced by his relationship with you during the investigation. This won't do his reputation any good, but provided he's cleared by the enquiry and no more accusations of impropriety arise, both he and the lab should be alright. But Sara, you need to take a good long look at your relationship and decide whether or not it's really worth it.'

Sara's eyes narrowed. 'Excuse me?'

'Men like Gil Grissom,' he went on; 'well… they _are_ the job. He's what? Nearly fifty, never married. Single most of his life. Doesn't take a genius to work out what's really important to him.'

He paused for effect, letting his words sink in before he continued.

'Was it ever going to last, really? And is it worth destroying both your careers over? Grissom's spent the best part of 25 years building a reputation for himself in this field. Will he thank you if he loses all that because of you?'

Despite herself, Sara felt a single tear fall, siding down her cheek and she avoided Ecklie's penetrating gaze.

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by the door swinging open. Quickly wiping the tears from her face, Sara turned to see Grissom in the doorway, glaring at Ecklie.

'Sara, we've had a development in our kidnapping case,' he said without taking his eyes of his nemesis. 'Go grab your kit and wait by the car. I'll be just a minute.'

Silently nodding, Sara left the room.

'I don't want her working cases right now, Gil,' Ecklie told him. 'She's…'

'Sara hasn't done anything wrong, Conrad,' Grissom replied forcefully. 'Everything that's going on right now is being done _to_ her. You have no grounds on which to stop her working. We have a missing child and another in intensive care, and Sara has built up a relationship with the mother so I _need her_ on this case. Any other problems you have, call a meeting. I'm sure Catherine and I would be happy to attend.'

With that, Grissom turned on his heel and stormed back out of the office.

* * *

Sara was silent as they drove to the hospital. When Grissom had filled her in on what had happened in the case, she had merely nodded sadly. Every few moments, he glanced across to the passenger seat worriedly, while she simply stared out the window. Finally, he summoned the courage to speak.

'Sara? What did Ecklie say to you?'

'I don't want to talk about it right now,' she replied softly, still not looking at him.

'Sara…'

'Please, Grissom. Later.'

They finished the journey in heavy silence.

* * *

Catherine was on her way out to a scene of her own when Ecklie found her.

'Conrad,' she greeted him.

'Catherine. Got a minute?'

'Not really.'

'Well, it won't take long. We need to talk about Sara.'

'Fine, just let me know what time and Grissom and I will be there.'

Ecklie shook his head. 'You're Sara's supervisor now. Grissom doesn't need to be there. And I also have another subject I need to discuss with you.' He glanced at his watch. 'I have a meeting with the Sheriff now. Come by my office in around 4 hours.'

Catherine raised an eyebrow in surprise. It wasn't like the day-loving Ecklie to be at the lab all night. 'You'll still be here?'

'The lab has a big problem right now, Catherine. I'll be here until steps have been taken to rectify it.'

* * *

When they arrived at the hospital, Sara immediately went to comfort the distraught mother, while Grissom made a beeline for Brass.

'What do we have so far?'

Out of habit, Brass took out his leather-bound notepad and flipped it open, not even glancing at it as he filled the CSI in.

'Little Mikey Harper, aged 7. Patrol found him by the side of the road a little over an hour ago – out towards Lake Mead. He's been badly beaten, unconscious. Doctors are trying to establish if he's in a coma or not right now…'

Grissom didn't respond, his face merely tightening at the thought of the brutal attack on a seven-year-old that had led them here.

'Sara found a book of matches at the house – from that dive, The Cue Ball. I checked it out. Waitress reckoned our suspect was staying at the motel across the street. Turns out, he was. Checked in about a week ago, same night he beat his wife and ran off. Night of the kidnappings, he pulls up, runs into his room. Less than two minutes later he's back out with his bag and no one has seen him there since.'

'Did anyone see the kids?' Grissom asked.

'The attendant on the desk that night thinks she saw someone in the car with him. But it was dark, she couldn't be sure. I'm having the phone records for the room pulled, maybe track down who he was in touch with, figure out where he's going.'

'Let's hope we do, before the little girl ends up the same way as her brother,' Grissom replied grimly, leaving Brass and moving towards the little boy's room.

Sara stood just inside the door, with Mikey's mother clinging to her hand in desperation.

'How could he do it, Sara?' she was sobbing. 'How could he do that to my baby?'

'I don't know, Carol,' Sara replied gently. 'But I swear we'll get him for this. You have my word on that.'

Grissom cleared his throat softly and both women looked up, only now aware that someone else was in the room with them.

'Mrs. Harper, we need to take a look at your son, his clothes, to see if there's any evidence there. It might help us to find out where your husband took him.'

She nodded and lowered her head again, fresh tears rolling down her face.

'Carol?' Sara's voice was full of sympathy for the woman. 'We'd like you to go outside and sit with Captain Brass for a few minutes, okay? He'll get you a cup of coffee while you wait. We won't keep you from Mikey for too long, I promise.'

She nodded again and let go of Sara's hand, walking through the doorway and into Brass's capable care.

Sara shut the door behind her and turned to look at the unmoving little boy in the bed. A deep sigh escaped her lips.

'You okay?' Grissom asked softly, his worried gaze taking in her every movement.

'Honestly?' she asked sadly, finally giving him her eyes. 'I have no idea.'

* * *

Grissom and Sara had just arrived back at the lab with their evidence when Catherine caught up with them.

'Hey Sara. How are you doing?'

'Fine,' she replied absently, before gesturing towards the evidence bags she carried. 'I'll go log this.'

'Okay,' Grissom replied watching her leave without another word.

'Gil, we need to talk,' the deadly serious tone of Catherine's voice grabbing his attention.

He tore his eyes away from the now empty corridor and nodded. 'Let's go to my office.'

* * *

When Catherine entered Ecklie's office at the appointed time, she found he was not alone. A tall blonde was sitting opposite him – a tall blonde she recognized.

'Sorry. Am I too early?' Catherine asked, looking CSI Sofia Curtis up and down.

'No, you're right on time Catherine. Come in,' he replied. 'You know Sofia, of course?'

Catherine nodded and took her seat.

'As you know, Catherine, the Pettigrew murder case isn't going well for us. The ethics of this lab are being called into question. I've spoken to the DA, the Sheriff and the Mayor on this, and we're all in agreement. For the good of the lab, we need to carry out a full enquiry.'

'A full enquiry? Into what?'

Ecklie looked at her as if it should be obvious. 'Into the lab's handling of the evidence in the case.'

His meaning was perfectly clear and Catherine's eyes narrowed defensively. 'You mean Grissom's handling of the evidence.'

'Specifically, yes.'

She stood up, furious. 'You're not using me in some sort of witch-hunt against Grissom.'

Ecklie held his hands up, trying to pacify her. 'Hey, no one here wants Grissom to go down for this. Apart from anything else, if he goes down, the lab goes down. But we need to clear this up and make sure the defense can't say the evidence was rigged in any way.'

Calming down slightly, she then looked at Sofia. 'So what's she doing here?'

'Sofia will work with you on this.'

'No way.'

'This is non-negotiable, Catherine. You need to work with someone impartial on this, so your findings stand up in court.'

Catherine snorted. 'Impartial? Give me a break. Everyone knows she's your right hand around here…'

At this, Sofia finally decided to break her silence. 'If I might say something?' She waited for Catherine to sit back, hands up, giving the new Day Shift supervisor the floor. 'I'm here to review the evidence with you, Catherine. Not to destroy anyone's career. And for what it's worth, I respect both Grissom and Sidle.' She looked to Ecklie. 'If you don't mind, I need to get going now.'

'Sure. Thanks Sofia.'

Sofia gave him a polite smile as she rose from her chair, before turning to Catherine. 'So, we'll talk?'

Catherine paused and glared at Ecklie, before reluctantly nodding.

Sofia smiled at her. 'I'll be in touch.'

Ecklie waited until she left the room before he spoke again. 'Now… with regards to Sara…' he began, halting as the door swung open once more.

'Sorry, I'm not late, am I?' Grissom asked as he shut the door behind him and moved to stand beside Catherine.

'I wasn't aware that I'd invited you to this meeting, Gil.'

'Well, Conrad, last time I checked I was still the Supervisor of Graveyard. And while Catherine is now Sara's direct supervisor, any discussions about her career still affects my team.'

'Fine,' Ecklie snapped back. 'I want her placed on administrative leave.'

Catherine sensed Grissom was ready to snap, so she got in their first. 'Oh what grounds?'

'She withheld background information from us. Her involvement in a homicide case has called evidence into question to the detriment of the lab. Do I really need to go on?'

Placing a firm hand on Grissom's arm to hold him back, Catherine once again replied first. 'And none of that was Sara's fault. She's under personal attack from the Defense on this one. They're making false claims and dredging up the past in a desperate attempt to get a guilty client off a murder charge. We should be rallying to Sara's defense, not cutting her loose.'

'And what happened to Sara as a child is none of your goddamned business, Ecklie,' Grissom spat. 'She has no criminal record and was never accused of any crime, so she didn't need to disclose anything about her past to you or to anyone.'

Ecklie rolled his eyes. 'I'm well aware of how little you understand the politics of situations like this, Gil. But I thought you were a little more savvy, Catherine.'

Catherine smiled dangerously. 'Oh, I am, Conrad. Enough to know that if you try to force Sara out of this lab, put her on some sort of bogus admin leave or try to fire her - I'll ensure that she informs every TV network and newspaper in this city of her unfair dismissal, and that she sues your ass. And how will the lab look then?'

* * *

As Sara locked her car and made her way to the steps leading to her apartment, she heard another car pull up behind her. She sighed and shook her head when she saw who it was.

'I missed you at the lab,' Grissom told her as he got out of the vehicle. 'You don't normally leave so quickly in the morning.'

'I wanted to get home,' she replied.

'Sara, about what happened with Ecklie. I'm sorry…'

'Don't Grissom. How is any of this your fault?'

'It isn't your fault either.'

'It's sweet of you to say that, but it doesn't make it true,' she told him sadly. 'If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been torn to shreds on the witness stand yesterday. And you wouldn't be under investigation now.'

His brows knit in surprise. 'You heard about that?'

'Word travels fast around the lab. You know that,' she said. 'I'm so sorry from bringing this all on you. I'd understand if you were angry with me…'

Grissom closed the gap between them and gently placed a hand beneath her chin to raise her eyes to meet his. 'You're not the one I'm angry with. This isn't your fault.'

He leaned down to kiss her, but Sara turned her head away. Grissom looked at her, both surprised and hurt. 'Sara…?' He sighed. 'Come on. Let's go inside and…'

She shook her head. 'Do you mind if I just… I mean,' she paused and glanced at him briefly before looking away. 'I think I'd rather be alone tonight.'

'Oh… Okay,' his voice belied his words – things were very far from being okay. 'If that's what you want?'

'It is,' she replied, meeting his eyes again. The pain and sorrow he saw in them hurt him more than her sending him away.

'Okay,' he whispered, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. 'Call me if you need me.'

She nodded and made her way up the steps. And as he watched her disappear into her apartment, Grissom wondered how it had all started to go so wrong…

* * *

The phone began ringing as Sara locked her door. Letting the answer machine get it, she went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She was just raising it to her lips when the caller's voice got her attention.

'Sara? Look… I know you don't want to talk to me, but I wish you'd called me back before now. I didn't want to tell you this on an answer machine, but a reporter tried to interview me a couple of times last week… it sounded like they were doing an article about you… '

Sara rushed to the phone and picked it up. 'Mom.'

TBC.


	8. Investigation

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Eight – Investigation

"Oh Sara, it's so good to hear your voice."

Sara fought off the lump that was forming in the back of her throat, choking her. She was glad they were on the phone and not face to face, so that her mother couldn't see the tears that were starting to flow silently down her cheeks.

"Sara? Are you still there?"

Swallowing hard, she took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm still here, Mom."

"I wish you had talked to me earlier in the week. I saw the newspapers."

It took a moment for Sara to figure out what she was talking about. Then the horrible, shameful feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. "You did?"

"I should have tried harder to warn you. Something could have been done…"

"Warn me? What are you…?" Sara's confusion was rapidly making way to anger. "Did you know?"

Her mother's voice was clearly upset when she spoke. "Not exactly. I didn't think they'd actually _publish_ anything. Not without some kind of interview with me…"

Things still weren't making much sense. "Mom. Start at the beginning. What exactly happened?"

Laura Sidle took a deep breath and began. "Just before I called you last week, a journalist came to see me at the house. Said he was doing a piece on the local area – sort of a tourist piece on Tamales Bay – and he wanted to interview as many locals as possible, to get a real sense of the place. I let him in and he started asking questions – innocuous at first, I suppose – about the area, how long I'd lived there, that sort of thing.

"He picked up a picture of you off the mantelpiece and asked me if it was my daughter. I said yes, and he asked me where you were. I told him – I didn't see the harm – I told him that you worked in Law Enforcement in Vegas." Sara could hear the tremor in her mother's voice now, as she too choked back the tears. "He said 'You must be very proud of her.' And I told him that I was."

She was sobbing now, quiet sobs carrying down the line to Sara who matched them with tears of her own. Wiping them away impatiently, she pressed her mother onwards. "What happened then?"

It took a moment for Laura to compose herself, and when she started to speak again, Sara detected not only sorrow in her tone, but shame.

"He asked if you had chosen that life for yourself as a result of what you went through as a child. I knew something wasn't right then. He started asking questions about… about your father and… what happened. Asked if it had affected you… mentally. Questions… so many horrible questions."

Sara shut her eyes, imaging the sorts of things he had asked. "What did you do?"

"I threw him out," her mother replied angrily. "I threw the son of a bitch out. Told him I wasn't going to talk about any of that with him or anyone. He told me, one way or another, the story would run… I just slammed the door on him."

"Have you seen him again?"

"No," she replied. "But I was worried. I knew how upset you'd be if the story was printed. So, I called you…"

_And I didn't pick up or call you back_, Sara inwardly berated herself. Something could have been done. An injunction of some kind. Or, at the very least, she could have been prepared for what was to come, not ambushed by it in Ecklie's office.

"I'm so sorry, honey," her mom told her.

"I know," Sara whispered. "It's not your fault."

* * *

Resentment was bubbling under her cool façade as Catherine sat opposite Sofia Curtis in the layout room.

Sofia was reading through the notes of the case, perusing reports and making notes in tiny, precise handwriting which Catherine couldn't make out from her vantage point.

Without looking up, Sofia began her questioning. "Catherine, can you run me through the events of the case, from the initial call out?"

Catherine was damned if she was going to be helpful. "You have all that information in front of you."

"I'm interested in your perspective."

Narrowing her eyes briefly at the blonde, she shook off her annoyance and tried to be professional. "Grissom and I were called to a 419 in a warehouse downtown. Caucasian male, later identified as Hank Pettigrew, cause of death single gunshot with high performance ammo. Body mutilated post-mortem – acid was poured over his face to conceal identity."

"Says here there was a lot of insect activity on the body."

Catherine nodded. "There was. However, the Doc put time of death at only a few hours before the body was found. The bugs were planted, just like Sara's hair and the beer bottle with her fingerprint on it."

Sofia glanced up. "Where was the hair found?"

"On the victim."

"Only one?"

"Yeah."

"Prints on the bottle, but no DNA inside, right?"

"That's right. Only it was print, not prints. A single thumb print, the rest of the bottle was clean. Clearly planted evidence."

Sofia nodded and jotted another note on her pad. No longer looking at Catherine, she urged her to continue. "Go on."

"We logged the evidence and had it processed immediately. Got a hit of the bottle and the hair immediately. Obviously, Sara's prints and DNA are in the system – just like everyone in the department. Grissom went straight to her apartment."

Again, Sofia looked up. "Alone?"

Catherine shook her head. "No. Brass went with him."

Sofia said nothing, so Catherine continued. "She was groggy, as though she'd just woken up. She couldn't remember the previous twelve hours. Grissom suspected she'd been drugged, so he and Brass drove her straight here for a blood test."

"Grissom drew her blood?"

"Yeah."

"He shouldn't have."

Catherine let out a frustrated breath. "He and Sara weren't involved at the time. There was no conflict…"

"There was still a history there."

"There's a history between all of us. We've worked together for a long time."

"Who ran the tox screen on Sara's blood?" Sofia wanted to know. And for at least the third time in an hour, Catherine fought the urge to punch the blonde.

"Greg."

"Why?"

Catherine sat back in her seat and glared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"At that point, Greg was a trainee CSI, right?"

"Still is."

"So, why was he in the lab?"

Catherine gritted her teeth. "Sofia…"

"Catherine. I'm not asking these questions for the hell of it. These are things that the Defense is going to question. And we'd damn well better have answers for them, otherwise our suspect is going to walk. Now, why Greg?"

Catherine cleared her throat and answered the question as if she were on the stand. "Greg was still floating between the DNA lab and the field until the tech we hired to replace him had fully settled in. Greg wanted to make sure the job was given a high priority, wanted it done right. So he ran the blood himself. Mia was with him the entire time, assisting and running other evidence."

"So Greg wasn't alone at any point when running the blood?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"And his tests proved conclusively that Sara _couldn't_ have been conscious during the time when the murder was committed?"

"That's correct."

Her answers seemed to please Sofia. "Good." She paused only briefly. "But there's still the problem of Grissom."

That earned her another glare. "What _problem _with him?"

Sofia's eyes glanced over the reports. "He processed Sara himself, Catherine."

Catherine shut her eyes, inwardly kicking herself. She should have insisted on doing it. "Yes. He did."

Sofia sat down the file and folded her hands together. "No matter how we present that, the Defense will make it look as though Grissom _could have_ manipulated the evidence. It doesn't really matter what he did or didn't do. It's how his actions could be colored by the Defense."

Reluctantly, Catherine nodded.

"Tell me about Jill Davenport."

Catherine took a moment to settle the anger that had risen in her, just thinking about that woman. "I interviewed her myself. She claimed to be genuinely surprised and upset by what had happened. In her statement, she claimed that Sara had gone to the bar to place their order, and that her drink had never left her sight – basically telling us that Sara couldn't have been drugged while she was with her. We now know that she was lying. Sara remembers Jill going to the bar, not the other way around, and the barman working that night has backed up Sara's version of events.

"What the evidence tells us is that Jill slipped the drugs into Sara's drink, waited until she started to get groggy and suggested that she go home and get some rest. By the time Sara reached her car, she was out cold. Jill loaded her in, drove her home, pulled a hair from her head and planted her print on the bottle. She took Sara's gun and reloaded it with high performance ammo. She then dressed in Sara's hat and coat and drove Sara's car to the warehouse to meet Hank. We recovered hairs that are consistent with Jill's from inside the hat, a couple of prints from the steering wheel of the car and her prints on both the bullets loaded in Sara's weapon, as well as the unloaded bullets recovered from the apartment."

Sofia nodded again, at what, Catherine wasn't sure. "Who recovered the evidence from Sara's car and apartment?"

"Brass recovered her gun from the apartment. The car was processed by Warrick and Nick."

"So that just leaves the notes. Only one had prints, is that right?"

"Right. Just one set of prints on the second note."

"Grissom's?"

"Yes, but I was there when he opened the envelope. He did his best to preserve the evidence once he realized what it was."

Sofia's eyes looked weary when they met Catherine's. "I'm sure the Defense gave him a really hard time about that on the stand."

"Ate him alive. About that… and everything else."

Sofia put down her pen and rubbed her temples, as if the whole situation where giving her a splitting headache. "Catherine, there's no evidence that anything was tampered with on this case. In fact, for this whole conspiracy theory to fly, you'd have to believe that the _entire_ lab was corrupt, since the evidence was processed involving at least eight different people."

Catherine sat back in her chair. "I'm sensing a 'But' in there somewhere."

"The fact remains that, if the jury buys for one second the Defense's claims that this lab could fake evidence to protect one of their own, if even _one juror_ decided that there's a shred of reasonable doubt, then Jill could walk."

* * *

Sara walked into the lab that night trying very hard to keep her head up, unashamed, but feeling like she was failing miserably. The small, supportive smiles she received from Judy on the front desk, and Bobby as she passed ballistics, did nothing to lift her spirits. And she felt even worse when she spotted Sofia Curtis interrogating Mia in the DNA lab. The ethics and professionalism of the entire lab were being put under the microscope – because of her.

She felt sick to her stomach. Things were not going the way they were supposed to. Jill should be safely behind bars, where she belonged. The lab should be going about its business of bringing justice and closure to those left behind. And she should be moving on with her life, building her future with Grissom finally, after so many false starts and heartaches.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't see the man in question until she almost collided with him.

"Hey," he greeted her softly, his voice hesitant.

"Hey." She could barely look at him. Of all people, she felt she had let him down the most.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her to his office and shut the door.

"Did you get any sleep?"

He was worried about her. His reputation was being put under the microscope because of her, and here he was, making sure she was getting enough rest.

She shrugged. "Some." Finally, she met his eyes and the love and compassion she saw there nearly did her in. "Grissom, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am…"

He shook his head. "There's really no need. You needed to get some rest. I understand. We don't need to live in each other's pockets just yet…"

"No. That's not what I meant," she told him. "I mean, I'm sorry for everything that's happening. For the investigation…"

He put his hands on her shoulders to silence her. "Sara, how many times do I have to explain that none of this is your fault? If either of us is to blame, it's me. I should have foreseen this. I shouldn't have processed you myself… I just… I wasn't thinking straight and I wanted to be the one to look after you."

He cupped her face with his hand and made her look at him. "Things are a mess right now, but I have to believe in the science. And the science tells us that Jill is guilty. I have to trust that a jury will see that, no matter what antics her lawyer tries to pull."

Sara wished she had his faith, and she wondered when her faith in science had waned. She had always believed in the evidence, but now she couldn't shake the notion that Jill was about to get away with murder, no matter what they said or did.

She suddenly felt suffocated and desperately needed to change the subject.

"I uh…" she began, clearing her throat and switching into professional mode. "I went through those phone records at home. Brass got them to me before the end of shift this morning."

Grissom paused briefly, and she wondered if he was going to chastise her for working when she should be resting. Instead he nodded. "Anything probative?"

"A lot of calls to bookies and escort agencies. A couple of other calls. One that caught my eye was to a Jess Silverton. I checked her address out, and she's located five miles west of where the police found Mikey."

This caught his interest. "How many calls."

"Only one."

Now he looked disappointed. "A judge probably won't give us a warrant based on a single call."

"It's the only address that makes sense," she insisted. "The rest were buddies of his, all within the city limits. If he ditched Mikey out of the car on his way to his current location, this Silverton woman is our _best bet_."

He nodded again. "Okay, I'll have Brass check it out. Meanwhile…"

Anything he was about to say was put on hold by the chirping of his cell phone. Glancing at it, he saw Brass's name and answered immediately. His conversation was brief and too the point. When he hung up, he turned to Sara and she thought she saw a tiny glimmer of relief in his eyes.

"The little boy's awake."

TBC.


	9. Search & Rescue

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Nine – Search & Rescue

As their SUV hurried through the desert landscape, the little boy's face haunted Sara. Swollen from the beating he'd sustained, his sorrowful eyes stared up at her as though begging her to make things right in the world. Relying on _her_ to bring back his big sister.

Grissom's gentleness with the child had almost done her in. In a soft voice, he guided Mikey through his story, managing to extract all the important information from him while trying not to cause additional trauma.

"Can you tell me what happened, Mikey?"

The child's voice, even an hour later, as she remembered it, brought tears to her eyes.

"Daddy was mad at me because I wouldn't stop crying."

It was a pathetic excuse (as any excuse would be) for hitting a child, much less for beating one into unconsciousness. But Mikey believed it. He felt culpable in his own abuse. As they left the hospital room, he was crying in his mothers arms, apologizing for acting like a baby. Not for the first time, Sara wished she could forgo the responsibilities of her job in law enforcement and beat the bastard to a pulp.

She also wished she could just have an hour in which to unburden herself of all the misery she was feeling. She just wanted to lock herself in a room and sob all the pain away. And that made her feel incredibly selfish. After all this child had gone through, all his sister was _still_ going through, she was thinking about her own pain, her own problems.

Sitting in the car next to Grissom in silence, she was still thinking about those problems, becoming angrier every second she spent focused on them. She was working herself into a fury – angry with herself, angry with Jill and, as irrational as it was, she was even angry with Grissom. Why had he allowed himself to get mixed up in her life now, when she could cause him the most damage? And still he stayed, trying to convince her that it wasn't her fault, knowing full well that every moment he spent with her meant another nail in the coffin of his career.

It had crossed her mind that morning at her apartment when she sent him home alone and it crossed her mind again now – how much better off he would be without her. But she couldn't think about that now, much less come to a decision. A child was still in danger and she had a job to do.

Mikey's information was enough to secure a warrant for the address Sara had found. His father had told them he was taking them to their 'Aunt Jess's' house. Now Brass, two patrol cars and Grissom and Sara's Tahoe were on their way there too.

The property was a ramshackle assortment of buildings, resembling what might have been a working farm at one point in history. At the last possible moment, they announced their presence with sirens and one patrol car blocked the driveway, while Sara and Grissom hung back, in case there was any trouble.

They watched in silence as Brass's car trundled up the rest of the way to the front of the property. Hopping out of the driver's seat, he was immediately flanked by two uniformed officers as he approached the front door and rapped sharply.

"Michael Harper! Las Vegas PD!"

They heard a bang as the back door flew open, and someone they could only assume was Mike Harper made a run for it.

Grissom could feel Sara tense beside him. Sensing she was about to take off after their suspect, he grabbed her arm, keeping her at his side.

"Let the cops do their job, Sara," he said in a quiet but firm voice.

Two of the uniforms had already cut off Harper's escape route. He changed direction clumsily, only to find another policeman in his path. Even from a distance, Sara could tell he'd been drinking. The chase lasted barely a minute, with Harper staggering more and more, unable to evade his pursuers. He was firmly in the grasp of two cops when Brass reached him.

"Where is she?"

Harper was the picture of innocence as he shrugged.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Wrenching herself from Grissom's grasp, Sara launched herself forwards, hurrying towards their suspect.

"Where's Jane? What have you done with her?"

As he followed Sara, Grissom spotted a woman, Jess he assumed, standing just inside the front door, her arms folded, impassively watching the scene. Nodding to two of the police officers nearest the house, he called out instructions to search the house for the girl but to touch nothing.

Sara reached Harper several steps before Grissom did, and he could tell from her posture that she was doing her best to control herself, and for that he was grateful. The last thing he needed her to do right now was to attack a suspect.

"What have you done with her, you son of a bitch?"

Harper regarded her disdainfully. "Go to hell, lady," he spat.

"You'll be in hell if we don't find that little girl alive and well."

Harper turned his attention to Grissom as he arrived at Sara's side. "You want to keep her under control, pal?"

Grissom looked at him like the dirt he was. "You don't tell us where your daughter is, and she'll be the least of your problems, _pal_."

* * *

Three quarters of an hour later, Harper still wasn't forthcoming with the whereabouts of his daughter. He and the lady of the house had been taken into custody, while the police commenced their search. The initial search of the house was followed up by a more detailed one by Grissom and Sara, while the four police officers that had accompanied them searched the exterior of the property and the many out-buildings.

Sara barely spoke, though Grissom noted a steely glaze that had fallen over her eyes, which told him she was both upset and angered by proceedings. He felt his own professional veneer slipping every time her glanced round to check on her, desperately wanting to forget they were at a crime scene so that he could just gather her up in his arms and take the pain away.

It didn't take too long before she was frustrated beyond reason.

"This is ridiculous!" she stated, getting up off her haunches, having been crouched down for the better part of five minutes looking for loose floor boards in the living room. "She's not in here."

Grissom kept his voice cool and calm to counteract hers. "We have to keep looking."

Breathing out in frustration, she made her way to the door. "You keep looking here, then. I'm going to go search the property."

The cops were already covering the barn and the larger out-buildings near the house, so Sara made her way to the buildings further away. What she guessed was an old tool shed, along with a tiny outside toilet were both empty.

The third building she entered could only have been the slaughter house, judging from the multitude of now rusting hooks that hung from the rafters. Fighting off the urge to shiver, she looked around for any place suitable to hide a small child. Unfortunately, there were many such places.

"Jane!" she called out, her voice echoing around the place in a haunting manner. "My name's Sara. You don't need to be scared. I'm here to bring you back to your Mom."

Avoiding a dangerous piece of rusting metal, Sara slid open a cupboard door. Nothing was inside but the carcass of a dead rat. Placing her sleeve across her nose and mouth, she slid the door closed again.

"Jane! If you can hear me, tell me where you are." No reply, except the echo of her own voice.

Making her way to the far side of the building, she pried open another door, so stiff she doubted it had been opened in decades. There was nothing at the other side of it except more piles of rusting metal.

She was about to give up hope and move on to the next building when she heard it. The tiniest of noises. She became perfectly still as she listened with all her might. And then it came again.

"Help me."

The voice was so quiet, so muffled; Sara could barely make it out. But she was in no doubt of what she had heard.

"Jane. My name's Sara. Where are you honey?"

Silence for a moment, an excruciatingly long moment, until… "I don't know. It's dark."

The child sounded terrified. Hunkering closer to where she's though the voice was coming from, Sara tried to keep her own voice strong and reassuring. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're going to get you out of there and get you home, okay?"

Moving quickly, she ran to the door of the building to alert the rest of the search party.

"I've found her!"

Dashing back to the corner where she heard the voice, she started talking again. "We're going to get you out of there, Jane. Just keep talking to me. I'll follow the sound of your voice, okay."

"Okay," came the tiny reply. "How's my little brother? Did you find him?"

Sara had begun moving debris out of the way, searching for a door or something that would lead to Jane. "Yes. We found him. He's safe. He's with your Mom. Which is exactly where you're going to be very soon. Keep talking to me."

Brass and a handful of cops piled into the building, followed quickly by Grissom. By that time, Sara had already figured out Jane's hiding place.

"See the drag marks," she pointed out to them. "He dragged this piece of machinery over some kind of trapdoor, I'll bet. Piled a lot of detritus on top of it. I need help moving it all."

It took them only a few moments to clear the area of debris and uncover the hidden trapdoor beneath. Rushing forward, Sara opened the door with a gloved hand to reveal the wide, scared eyes of the little girl.

"It's okay, honey," she whispered, scooping her up into her arms. "You're safe now."

* * *

By the time they had driven back to Vegas and reunited Jane with her Mother and brother, Sara was emotionally drained. There was intense satisfaction in having found the little girl and arrested her abusive father, but the needlessness of the whole situation still stuck in her throat. Children should not have to go through experiences like these.

Grissom found her getting some air outside the hospital entrance.

"Do you want to go to PD for the interrogation?" he asked her, noting how tired and strung out she looked.

Slowly, she shook her head. "I, uh… I think I'll just head back to the lab and start logging the evidence we collected out at the house. Okay?"

Thinking it was probably for the best, Grissom agreed. "Okay."

"See you later," she said, not looking up, walking off towards the SUV before he could utter another word.

* * *

"Summations are first thing tomorrow morning," the District Attorney, Marcus Rutherford, grumbled. "You've cut this very fine."

Catherine shot him a look that would curdle milk. "You didn't exactly give us a lot of time on this. Now, would you like to waste even more time, or do you want to hear our findings?"

Appropriately discomfited, Rutherford sat back in his chair, ready to listen. Satisfied, Catherine nodded to Sofia, giving her the floor.

Sofia got straight to the point. "Catherine and I have gone through every piece of evidence, all of the case notes and interviewed the lab technicians involved in processing the evidence in this case. There is no evidence of any cover-up or anything else improper taking place."

Rutherford raised an eyebrow. "There's still the question of Supervisor Grissom being involved in the handling of evidence. The defense…"

"The defense are doing a tap-dance routine to distract the jury," Catherine cut him off. "Grissom and Sara Sidle were not involved in a personal relationship at the time of this investigation. There was no reason for Grissom to remove himself from the case. The defense can cry about it all they want. There is no evidence of any wrong doing by any member of this lab."

The DA sighed and looked to Ecklie. "I'm not sure it'll make much difference anymore, Catherine," Ecklie admitted. "Your internal investigation may have cleared Grissom, but it may be too late to sway the jury."

Catherine shook her head. "That's ridiculous. Jill is as guilt as sin."

"That as maybe," Rutherford replied. "But the defense has pushed the reasonable doubt argument very hard the whole way through this trial. All it takes is one or two doubting Thomases in the jury, and we're in trouble."

* * *

"Everything logged?" Grissom asked as he entered the layout room several hours later to find Sara immersed in paper work; boxes and envelops of evidence laid out in front of her.

"This is the last piece," she replied, not looking up. "I'll leave the report on your desk when I'm done."

He suddenly felt incredibly frustrated. Sara had always given him her full attention in the past, whether in the professional realm or, more recently, in the realm of the personal. Now she was actively not looking at him.

"Sara."

The impatience in her voice did not mask the other emotion that was present. Distance.

"I said I'm nearly done, Grissom."

Still no eye contact. Grissom sighed out in frustration and rubbed a hand idly over his beard. Surely she wasn't mad at him? _Had he done anything to piss her off in the past 48 hours?_ Racking his brains for the slightest clue, he concluded that he had not. He'd been nothing but supportive of her. _Maybe a little too supportive_, the paranoid sector of his brain suggested. _Maybe you're suffocating her…_

He stood by the door watching her, suddenly realizing what he'd been like when he'd shut her out all of those years. Cold and distance, finding eye contact difficult. All because he had been afraid of hurting her. And, most especially, because he had been afraid of getting hurt.

Things had been going so well between them, and as much as he wanted to avoid putting too much pressure on her, he'd be damned if he let her repeat his mistakes by keeping him at arms length.

While he'd been lost in thought, Sara had risen to her feet and begun to gather the evidence into her arms.

"Let me help you with that."

"It's okay. I can manage."

Stepping forward, he picked up a large box from the table. "Sara, let me help, okay?"

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Thanks."

They didn't speak on their way to the evidence vault, the silence laying heavy between them. Once everything was inside and the door safely locked, Grissom decided to try again.

"Shift's over. Would you like to grab some breakfast?"

She shook her head, granting him a small, regretful smile. "Not today. I just… I'm just going to head home." She looked at him, her eyes meeting his for a split second before darting away again. "I'll see you tonight."

As she started towards the locker room, Grissom felt anger start to build within him. _Why was she pushing him away?_

"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone halting her steps.

Barely looking back over her shoulder, she feigned confusion. "What do you mean?"

Not wanting to have a scene with her in the middle of the corridor, he nodded his head in the opposite direction. "Let's go to my office." Without waiting for her to acquiesce, he stalked off in that direction, not stopping or turning around until he reached his desk. He was relieved to see that she'd followed him.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, his eyes searching her face for a clue to what she was thinking.

"What the county pays me for, Grissom. My job."

She did flippant better than anyone he knew and right now it was pissing him off.

"Shut the door."

Ignoring the reproachful look she shot him, he waited until the rest of the lab was excluded from their conversation.

"What's going on with you?" he asked her. "You've been avoiding me."

She looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "I've been working with you on this case. I'd hardly call that 'avoiding' you."

"Stop it Sara," he replied, losing his battle with himself to keep his voice down. "Stop pretending nothing is wrong. I'm meant to be the asshole of this relationship. I'm the one who avoids you, who runs away, who hides behind the job to avoid intimacy. You think five years of practice hasn't given me sufficient ability to spot that behavior in you? You've barely been able to look me in the eye since I got back from court. We haven't spent any personal time alone together, much less talked about everything that's happened."

She bent her head, her stoic façade cracking. Seeing her upset, he immediately hated himself for being angry and went to her, cradling her cheek in his hand. "Sara, how can I help you if you won't let me in?"

_It would be so easy_, she thought. Just to give in, to let him take care of her. To act like the helpless woman Jill wanted her to become and just let him wrap his arms around her and sob into his shirt. But she couldn't do it.

"Maybe I don't want you to help," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Maybe it's something I have to do alone."

And with that, she had left his office before he even knew how to respond.

* * *

Sara sat in the locker room, both mentally and physically exhausted. She was grateful that Grissom hadn't followed her – the last thing she needed was another heart-wrenching conversation. And yet, she didn't hurry to leave the building; a small part of her (_the weak part, _she thought) wanted him to find her.

When Nick came in at the end of his shift, she was gathering her things together.

"Hey," he greeted her cheerfully. "Greg and me are heading out for some breakfast. You up for joining us?"

Grateful for the offer, she sadly shook her head. "Sorry, Nick. It'll have to be another time. I have somewhere I need to be."

Half an hour later, Sara slipped into the back of the courtroom, just as Helen Spencer stood to give her closing statement.

TBC.


	10. The Decision

**Disclaimer – **See Chapter One.

**Author's Note - **Warning - buckle up; lots of angst approaching...

* * *

Chapter Ten – The Decision

"It's an all too easy catchphrase. '_The evidence never lies'_," Ms Spencer began her impassioned argument, as she gravely paced in front of the judge's bench. "It is designed to inspire confidence. Believability. It takes the questions out of your hands. The science says it's true, and you have to believe it. Because science is never wrong. Right?"

She ceased her movements and stood facing the jury square on. "Wrong. The evidence might not lie, but the people who interpret it? Who process it? They're just human, just like you or me. And they can lie. They can misinterpret. They can manipulate. And all you and I see is the end result. They expect our belief in their science to translate to a belief in them. And _yes_, in a perfect world, it should."

She shook her head gravely for effect.

"But we don't live in a perfect world. We live in a world where, _unfortunately_, there is corruption. A world where, in order to cover for _one of their own_, criminalists and members of law enforcement are in a position where they _can _manipulate, conceal and lie.

"Now, the District Attorney will tell you that an independent investigation has taken place within CSI, clearing them of all charges of wrong doing in this case. But those doing the investigating are the friends and colleagues of those involved in this case. Does that sound _impartial_ and _independent _to you?

"The facts of the case are these and they are simple. Hank Pettigrew was found brutally murdered. My client's fingerprints and DNA were _not _found at the scene. A member of law enforcement's fingerprint and DNA _were _however recovered. That same person's car was captured on CCTV arriving at the scene of the crime. Someone matching her description was seen entering the crime scene. And yet, she _claims_ that my client set her up. Drugged her to implicate her in the murder of a man my client _never even met_.

"Yes, the prosecution has presented you with _circumstantial_ evidence implicating my client. A few strands of hair and a fingerprint in CSI Sidle's car. Fingerprints on some bullets," she said as if it were a throw away comment.

"But let me put this too you. What is more likely? That my client, a Public Relations executive, set up an experienced crime scene investigator, planting evidence to make her look guilty? Or is it _much more likely_ that a woman who has worked in law enforcement for eight years, and is described by her colleagues as one of the best criminalists in her lab, set up my client to take the fall for a crime she herself committed?

"Now, the reason, the _sole reason_ that Ms Sidle is not sitting in the defense's chair is because of a blood test which _seems to _prove that she was drugged and unconscious at the time the crime took place," Spencer held up her hands in mock submission. "On the surface - irrefutable evidence. That is, until you remember that her lover drew the blood for that test. And that he too is an experienced criminalist, more than capable of _adjusting_ the evidence to say whatever he wanted it to say.

"There are too many question marks hanging over this case, ladies and gentlemen," she told the jury, winding up her argument. "Too many questions. But there is only one that you need to focus on right now."

She regarded them gravely, looking at each one as if charging them with a sacred task.

"Can you believe, in your heart of hearts, that Jill Davenport is guilty, beyond a _reasonable doubt_?" She peered into each juror's eyes before she continued. "Now, what do we mean when we say reasonable? Has the so-called 'proof', presented by the Prosecution of such a _convincing character_ that you would be willing to rely and act upon it _without hesitation_? If so, if you are convinced by the Prosecution and by the so-called crime scene investigators in this case, then by all means, find my client 'guilty'.

"But if you have any doubts, based upon your own reason and common sense and after careful consideration of the evidence which has been presented to you, then you _must_ deliver a 'Not Guilty' verdict."

As Helen Spencer made her way back to her seat, Sara fought off the urge to be sick. She felt the bile rise in her throat with each accusation. It didn't really matter what was true anymore. The defense had painted such a vivid portrait of corruption and deceit that even Sara wasn't sure if she was guilty or innocent.

As the DA rose to give his closing argument, Sara picked up her bag and made to slip out quietly. As she reached the door, she felt someone's eyes upon her. Turning slightly she was greeted by Jill's smirking face, looking back at her from the front of the room.

Sara swallowed her fury and left.

* * *

Grissom arrived home to an empty house. A small part of him thought – or perhaps just hoped – that she would be waiting there for him, full of apologies he wouldn't need to hear and ready to fall into his arms. Romantic notions that, up until a few months ago, a man like him would never have wasted his time on.

But the relationship had changed him. He had changed. Finally allowing himself to love her - and to be loved in return - had opened up a whole new range of possibilities. But it had also opened him up to a world of pain.

Walking to the kitchen, he spent a full minute staring into the half empty fridge before deciding he wasn't hungry. He went back into the living room, but didn't feel much like reading or listening to music.

Finally giving in, he did the one thing he wanted to do. He picked up the phone. Dialing the familiar number, he was startled when it didn't ring, but rolled straight to voicemail.

"_Hi. You've reached the voicemail of Sara Sidle. I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as possible…"_

Wondering why her cell phone was switched off, he immediately hung up and dialed her home number. When he was again greeted by her recorded voice, he decided to leave a message.

"Hey. It's me… I… I need to see you, Sara. I don't want to put any pressure on you, but… you can't keep shutting me out. Call me back. Please."

* * *

After driving around for a while, her car seemed to head back towards the lab of its own volition. She sat in the parking lot as she weighed her options. Doing what needed to be done would be much easier now, in the middle of the day. The likelihood of running into a member of her own team was slim, and after double checking the lot for his car, she knew that Grissom had gone home.

Steeling her nerve, she got out of the car and went inside. The lab was buzzing with members of dayshift going about their business. A few nodded to her, but most were too rapped up in their cases to give her the time of day – a fact which Sara was grateful for. She planned to get in and get out quickly, before anyone could ask any questions.

Her plan went perfectly until half an hour later. As she was coming out of Ecklie's office, she ran headlong into Catherine. The older woman regarded her with surprise.

"Sara? I thought you went home hours ago."

Guiltily looking over her shoulder to ensure she'd closed the office door behind her, her mind went into overdrive as to how to get out of her current situation.

"I did. I'm just dropped by for a minute."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "You dropped by _Ecklie's_ office?"

"He, uh… he wanted to talk about the court case."

Catherine didn't buy it. "Sara, what's going on?"

Sara attempted to feign innocence. "Nothing."

"Come on, Sara."

"Leave it alone, Cath," Sara snapped, wanting nothing more than to get out of there.

Catherine softened, seeing how upset Sara was. "Come on. I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

* * *

As they sat opposite each other in the diner near the lab, Sara was torn between wanting to get the hell out of there, and feeling relieved that she could at least explain her decision to someone. Someone who wasn't Grissom.

She took a sip of the strong black brew, knowing full well it would be the only thing keeping her going that day. She hadn't slept, and if all went to plan, she wouldn't have time to sleep until the following day.

Catherine was watching her closely, trying to figure her out. She seemed to be waiting for Sara to speak first. So she did.

"Go ahead and ask. You will anyway."

Catherine sighed as set her coffee cup down and laced her fingers together. "Why were you talking to Ecklie?"

Sara braced for impact. "I was handing in an application for a leave of absence."

Whatever Catherine had been expecting, it certainly didn't seem to be that, judging from her shocked expression. "For how long?" she finally managed to ask.

Sara shrugged. "Six months. A year maybe. I haven't decided yet."

"Have you even discussed this with Grissom?"

"No. I haven't."

Sara expected a barrage of harsh words. Instead, Catherine shook her head. "Why are you running away?"

"Cath, I'm not running away. I'm leaving before I make things any worse."

When Catherine clearly had no idea what she was talking about, Sara continued. "My reputation's been shot to pieces by this case. And if I stick around, Grissom's won't be salvageable either."

Catherine shook her head. "Sofia and I cleared both of you. We presented our findings to the DA and Ecklie and the Sheriff has the report. Both your jobs are fine."

Sara laughed mirthlessly. "Spoken like a woman who wasn't in court this morning."

"Was it really that bad?"

Sara's eyes darkened. "She's going to get away with it."

"You don't know that."

"The hell I don't," Sara's voice rose. "I was _there_, Cath. I heard what the jury heard. Trust me; the way Jill's lawyer tells it, I'm a _much _more plausible suspect than her client."

"The evidence…"

Sara cut her off. "The evidence doesn't matter anymore. It's not about _what happened_. It's about what the jury can be made to believe _could have happened_." Sara laughed again.

"What's so funny?"

"The irony. That's exactly what Phillip Gerard told Grissom about the Havilland case." All the humor left her and the anger took over. "God, why couldn't have day shift picked up that goddamned case? None of this would have happened!"

Catherine lent across the table and kindly patted the top of her hand. "It doesn't matter what happens in court, Sara. No matter what, he'd want you with him. I know he would."

"And if I stay and his career goes to hell because of me?" she asked, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Do you honestly think I could stay and watch him slowly start to hate me for destroying what he's worked for all his life?" She shook her head, determined. "I couldn't do it, Cath."

Catherine held up her hands in defeat. She knew she didn't stand a chance in convincing the stubborn brunette. But she knew of a man that did.

"Okay. But you _have_ to talk to Grissom. You can't just leave without telling him."

Unwilling and unable to argue anymore, Sara slowly nodded. "I'll go talk to him."

But as she pulled out of the diner's car park, she turned her car towards home to start packing.

* * *

Grissom stormed into the break room, looking haggard. It was clear to Catherine that he hadn't slept. She expected anger. She expected pain. What she didn't expect was for him to look around the room and then regard her with a question in his eyes.

"Where's Sara?"

Muttering a string of curses under her breath, she wondered how hard it would be to make herself invisible. Looking back up at him, she realized it hadn't worked. He was still glaring down at her, waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry, Gil," she said sincerely. "I told her to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Wishing she didn't have to answer this in front of the entire team, she swallowed and told him. "She's gone. She handed in an application for a leave of absence and she's leaving town tonight."

She felt the rest of the team react silently, all eyes turning towards Grissom. Fury danced in his eyes. Masking pain he didn't want anyone to see. Catherine's heart broke for both her friends. She had seen the same look in Sara's eyes that afternoon.

"Gil, I'm sorry. I thought she was…"

He was gone before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

Sara zipped her hold-all and wiped away another stray tear. Looking around the bedroom, she ensured that her clothes were either packed away in her two suitcases, or in the boxes marked 'bedroom', now sitting expectantly in the living room.

Carrying the last bag out of her bedroom, she stared at her now empty bookcases. The furniture would stay, as would all her kitchen equipment and crockery. Her landlord was being good enough to sublet the apartment in her absence; the movers would arrive the following day to take her books and other personal items into storage.

A couple of suitcases and half a dozen boxes. That was what her life fitted into. Didn't seem like much. But on the other hand, it seemed like an awful lot when, at this moment, she felt so empty inside.

The sorrow and pain welled up inside her again and she indulged herself with a few more tears. Just a few more and then she'd be gone – one brief stop by his house to drop off the letter. An inadequate explanation as to why she was abandoning him – them – everything she'd dreamed for the two of them. And then she'd be gone, dust in the wind.

She paused to pick the letter up off the coffee table. It was only a page in length. There was too much to say, so much that she couldn't bring herself to say any of it. And so she just hadn't.

She tried not to think of herself as a coward. She should have told him face to face, but she thought, _believed_ that would only hurt him more. This way, maybe he could hate her. Maybe it would be easier in the end. Or maybe she just couldn't bear to look into his deep blue eyes as she told him what he'd feared had finally come true.

Her journey to the kitchen counter to retrieve her coat was halted by a pounding on her door. There was no question in her mind as to who it was as she wearily went to answer it.

He was there in a blaze of fury and pushed straight passed her before she could utter a word. His eyes swept the room, taking in the empty shelves and the boxes, as if seeking confirmation of her impending departure. The silence crackled heavily between them, recriminations and regret filling the dead air, daring her to speak. He had yet to look at her, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes.

Finally, she could take no more. "Griss…"

"Don't." His voice was low and dangerous, a voice she had never heard him use before, especially not with her. "Were you even going to bother telling me?"

"I…" she started to make excuses but stopped herself. He deserved the truth. "No."

"Good to know what our relationship means to you," he said bitterly.

She went to him, putting her hand on his arm. "Grissom, I don't _want_ to go. But I _have_ to."

He finally turned to look at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. "No. You don't _have_ to go anywhere," he insisted. "This isn't you, Sara. You don't run away."

The tears were now flowing freely down her face. "If I stay, things will only get worse. Maybe if I get out of town, lay low for a while, this will all blow over," she told him, not really believing it in her heart. "And then I'll come back."

"You're letting her win, Sara."

"She won a long time ago," she replied. "I don't think she ever intended on killing me that night in the warehouse. She wanted to destroy both of us." She brushed away the tears impatiently; her anger towards the woman who'd caused all this building inside her chest until it had no where left to go but out. "She may have succeeded in destroying my career, but I'll be damned if I let her do the same to you! She will not use me to destroy you! If I go now, your career might still be okay."

He slid his hands up from her shoulders to cup her face. "Do you really think I give a damn about my career right now?"

"Oh babe, I _know _you do," she told him honestly. "I know how important it is to you. It's what you've worked towards your entire life. You might not want to admit it now, but if I was the one to mess that up for you, you'd end up hating me."

He shook his head. "Don't leave." He ran his thumbs across her cheeks in the futile attempt to stem her tears. "Don't leave."

Sara couldn't speak and so he lowered his lips to hers, almost searing her skin with his intensity. She could do nothing but kiss him back, utterly helpless against the torrent of emotions rushing between them. Their kisses were fevered and desperate, as if trying to fit all of the passion they had ever experienced into one single moment of time.

Packing boxes, suitcases and court cases; everything was forgotten as they totally lost themselves in each other. Her shirt came up and over her head, landing in a heap on the floor. His followed a few seconds later. Blindly they stumbled their way towards the bedroom, slamming into walls and door jams and not feeling the pain.

He tore his lips from hers and began devouring her neck as her head lolled back and she moaned. Their hands wandered freely, wanting to be everywhere at once, exploring old territory like new and finding favorite spots once more.

As his lips found hers again, she felt the dampness of his tears on her face. She held him tighter, kissed him harder, willing them to fall into oblivion one last time.

TBC.


	11. Endings and Beginnings

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Eleven – Endings & Beginnings

The blush of first light was seeping through the bedroom curtains when Sara awoke. Lying on her side, she sadly watched him as he slept; his breathing slow and measured, caressing her cheek and breaking her heart.

Eventually, she cautiously extracted herself from the bed, careful not to wake him. Like a shadow, she moved into the living room and stationed herself at her desk.

A new sheet of paper on the blotter in front of her and the black pen she favored between finger and thumb, she paused to find the words. Her earlier, pathetic attempt at a letter was now inadequate, as it in truth always had been. But now, she had complicated matters further. Now, she knew she couldn't leave him with a simple apology and a measured goodbye.

Taking a deep breath, she began to write.

* * *

The hot desert sun was higher in the sky when he awoke in an empty bed. He knew he was alone, even before he sat up and looked around the room. She was already gone…

Her pillow smell faintly of her shampoo, and he buried his face in it, absorbing her scent.

_She was gone…_

Sitting up properly, he noticed a creamy envelope – nice but inexpensive stationary – propped up against the bedside lamp. With shaking hands, he reached for it.

He had never received a Dear John letter before. And despite his insecurities going into his relationship with Sara, he had never expected to receive one from her.

Struggling to regard the letter as a piece of evidence from which he could remain emotionally unaffected, rather than as a weapon capable of his fatal wounding, he tore open the envelope and unfolded the fearsome missive within.

His heart ached at the sight of her familiar scrawling penmanship. It was obvious that she had tried to force her handwriting into a neater than usual configuration of letters, just as she had often tried to force her unruly hair into smooth locks in the past.

_Dear Grissom,_

_It's strange that after working by your side for more than five years and being in a relationship with you these past months, Grissom is still the only name for you that comes naturally to me. It is the name that comforts me when I awake from a nightmare or when I'm feeling raw and vulnerable at work. It's the name that comforts me now, as I drive away from Vegas and out of your life. You are the constant in my life, Grissom. Even in the past, when things between us unraveled, you were still my safe port in the storm. The one person in this world I knew I could turn to if I really needed to._

_Which is why leaving you now, just when I possibly need you the most, breaks my heart. _

_I need for you to know and to understand my reasons for going. As I've already told you, the current situation in Vegas has become untenable – Jill's victory over me would be complete if I remained there to see the remnants of my career fall down around me. It doesn't matter that I've been cleared of wrong-doing. Even without Jill's accusations and the damage being done to my reputation, I'm becoming reckless, self-destructive. In the end, if I stayed, I would probably be the one to destroy my own career. And even that, at this stage, would not be the worst thing that could happen._

_No matter your arguments to the contrary, I would never forgive myself if I contributed to the destruction of your career. Deny it all you like, Griss, but we both know how important your job is to you. You've worked for it your entire life and I will not let my past, or my current destructive behavior, risk all that for you. Ecklie may not be right about much, but he was right about one thing - I don't think you'd ever forgive me. _

_However, that is not the only reason for me leaving. I have a past that I have never fully dealt with. And as much as I would like to remain in Vegas and bury my head in the ample amounts of sand the desert provides, I know that I will never be free of my past unless I finally lay it to rest._

_Someone once said "_Only the one that inflicts the pain can take it away." _My curse in life has always been that the man who inflicted so much pain on me and my family is no longer alive, and so can never be brought to justice. For years I hated my Mother for taking that away from me. I felt that my Father escaped justice in death, thus making the terror he inflicted upon us live on forever. Part of me still feels that way._

_You told me that I don't run away, but in truth I've been doing just that for the past 21 years of my life. I ran away from my past and tried never to look back. I sought salvation in education, in science, in a career that allowed me to exorcise my own demons in finding justice for others. And it has helped. But it has never been enough._

_I need to go back, Griss. I need to face my past so that it no longer has any hold over me. It's the only way I can move forward with my life. It's the only way I can have a future with you._

_I'm not leaving forever, I promise you that. My leaving Las Vegas is not me leaving you. I thought I would have to. Before you showed up at my door last night, I thought the best thing I could do for you would be to leave and never come back. But I can't. I realized last night that, no matter what problems or difficulties we might have to face, I can't bear the thought of a life without you. _

_But in order to have that, I have to do this. I need to leave, to distance myself from what has happened in Vegas and face the ghosts of my past. And then, when I'm ready, I will come home to you. I just hope that you will still be waiting for me when I get there. Will you?_

_Please tell the others that I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. Let them know that I will miss them._

_Please forgive me for leaving you this way. If I waited until you woke up, I don't honestly think I would have been able to go. And I had to. Please understand. I promise that I'll contact you when I'm ready to talk._

_I will love you forever, _

_Sara._

Emotionally spent, Grissom leaned back against the headboard and felt the tears sting his eyes.

_

* * *

_

A black cloud came into the lab with Grissom that night. The others knew Sara had truly gone without needing to ask. Even Catherine was unsure of how to broach the subject with her old friend. Surprisingly, at the beginning of assignments, she found she didn't have to.

"I'm sure you're all aware by now that Sara has taken a leave of absence from the lab and has left town for a time."

It took a moment for anyone to pluck up the courage to speak. In the end, it was Nick. "When will she be back?"

"I don't know," Grissom replied, not meeting anyone's eyes. "She, uh… she apologizes for not saying goodbye in person and asked me to tell you that she will miss you all."

He aimlessly stood there for a moment, assignment slips in his hands, utterly at a loss for what to do next. Finally, he handed the slips to Catherine.

"You're in charge tonight," he told her, before he turned on his heal and headed for his office.

He shut the door behind him and slunk into the sterile silence of his private domain. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out the creamy paper of her letter. Holding it before him on the desk, he ran his fingers across her words, as though he could absorb them into his skin.

A profound sense of loneliness settled over him. He had always been a solitary man, living only for his work, his bugs, his privacy. But now she had spoilt the inner peace he found when he was alone. He missed her more dearly than a limb, mourning the lack of her joyful presence in his once dreary world. And now that she was gone from it, his life seemed that much darker and unwelcoming.

Part of his soul clung to her promise - that she would return. If that was true, then this pain would only be temporary. But the black cloud that hovered around him made it difficult to see any light on the horizon. He saw only endless days and nights, bereft of color, of joy, of love.

The shrill ring of the phone cut through the thickening silence. An internal line. Re-focusing his attention on the letter, he ignored it, and then again when it rang five minutes later.

He was a coiled spring, a cobra ready to strike when someone rapped on his closed door a few moments later.

"Go away," he called out hoarsely.

Instead, the door cracked open. "Dr Grissom?" a timid voice asked.

"What is it, Judy?" he asked, trying to contain his anger. Even in his current mood, he knew it would be wrong to lash out at her.

"Mr. Ecklie has been looking for you, sir," she replied, remaining on the outside of the door, afraid to venture in. "He says he's been calling you."

He grunted in reply, not caring.

"He asked me to tell you that he wants to see you in his office. That he's waiting for you."

"Let him wait."

An hour later, Ecklie apparently could wait no longer. Steaming into Grissom's office, he found the supervisor of the grave shift reclining back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell's going on, Gil?"

Grissom addressed the interloper without opening his eyes.

"In what sense, Conrad? What the hell's going on in the world in general? In this city? In the lab perhaps? Or were you referring to something more specific?"

Ecklie was nonplussed. "Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

Bizarrely, this seemed to tickle the bearded scientist. "Humor," he chuckled quietly to himself.

"Didn't Judy tell you I was waiting to see you in my office?"

"She did."

Realizing he was getting no where fast, Ecklie moved to the empty chair in front of Grissom's desk and sat down.

"I saw Catherine. She says you handed off the shift to her tonight."

Still reclining in his chair, Grissom nodded almost imperceptibly. "That's right."

The other man's nonchalance was beginning to grate on the Lab Director's nerves. "And don't think I don't know about your disappearing act last night. This isn't a hotel, Gil."

Still he did not move. "I'm well aware of that, Conrad."

"Are you going to give me an explanation?"

Finally, Grissom took his hand away from his face and looked at the other man. "I went to see Sara."

"Ah."

"Ah," Grissom repeated. "She's gone. Left town. You must be so relieved."

"Gil…"

Grissom sat forward, lacing his fingers together, regarding Ecklie like a bug under his microscope.

"What? What's your excuse? It was for the good of the lab? The good of my career?"

"It was _her_ choice."

The disgust was obvious on Grissom's face. "You didn't give her much of a choice, though, did you? Sara left because she's a decent human being. Because the thought of hurting me or my career was too much for her to bear. She left because she didn't think she had any choices left open to her. She's a better person than you could ever dream of being, Conrad, and you made her believe I'd hate her if she stayed."

Ecklie sneered. "Like it would have worked out anyway, Gil. You're married to your work. You're even more of a workaholic than I am. And Sidle is a ticking clock, just waiting to go off. She's unstable and reckless. It was only a matter of time before she completely lost it. I have sympathy for her background and the conditions she faced growing up, but I will not sacrifice the integrity of this lab out of pity."

Grissom rose to his feet. "Her _past_ is what makes her such a damn good CSI. She's driven and talented and completely focused on getting justice for the victims that pass through these walls. And if you don't think that is something this lab needs, then you're even more of an idiot than I gave you credit for."

The other man gritted his teeth to prevent a biting comeback to the last remark escaping his mouth. Instead he stood up, holding up his hands to placate Grissom.

"Look, she decided to go. It's over and done with. Now we can move on." The man's unctuous tone made Grissom's teeth ache as he continued. "The upshot is your name's been cleared. And with Sidle gone, there should be no further repercussions on your career. I _know _you Gil. I a couple of weeks, with a couple new experiments running; all of this will seem like a bad dream."

"You don't know me, Conrad," Grissom snapped. "God, I've been so pathetic for so many years, haven't I? Hiding away here in the lab instead of actually having a life. Do you really think I could go back to that, just because she's gone?"

Ecklie sighed. "Look, Grissom… maybe take some time and…"

"I don't need time, Ecklie," he replied, taking his lab ID out of his pocket. He looked at the picture, running his fingers over the words _Gil Grissom, Night-Shift Supervisor. _Feeling now that it simply wasn't who he was anymore.

Finally, he threw it down onto the desk in front of Ecklie.

"I quit."

And with that, he picked up his jacket and walked out the door, before the director could utter another word.

As he made his way down the corridor towards the exit, Grissom felt oddly free, like a heavy weight had been removed from his shoulders. He no longer knew what the future held for him, but he did know one thing. He was starting to feel better.

* * *

Sara drove through the unfamiliar neighborhood, knots of apprehension twisting in her stomach. She almost turned back on more than one occasion, bile rising in her throat and terror clutching at her skin.

Twenty-one years and still she was not ready for this. Eight years as a CSI, facing the very worst crimes, the most vile and despicable criminals. And yet, she had never been more scared in her life.

She found the modest townhouse without much difficulty and shifted her rental car into park without shutting off the engine. There was still time. Time to call the whole thing off and return, tail tucked neatly between her legs, to Vegas.

_But it would still be there_, she told herself. _It would always be there, sitting in the back of her mind, ready to tear her down when she was least prepared to fight back…_

She had come this far. She couldn't run away now.

Turning off the engine, she got out of the car and observed the house as though it were a crime scene. The garden was small and neat, not much plant life as yet, as though it had been neglected for a long time, but recently found and tended to again.

Taking a deep breath, she moved away from the safety of her car. As she walked tentatively towards the house, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Taking it out, she flicked it open to see who had sent her a message.

_I will wait for you forever. Call me when you're ready. I love you – G._

She was smiling now, his words filling her, surrounding her and giving her strength. She moved towards the house with renewed confidence, at last ready to face her past.

THE END.

* * *

**A/N - **As ever, thanks to all those who've supported, read and reviewed this story. Your support means the world to me and I hope I haven't disappointed you. This series has turned into a real labor of love for me - it was only meant to be one story initially and has sprung into a quadrilogy which will soon be a quintology (is that even a real word:) )

**Coming Soon - Retribution**

While Sara returns to her past so that she can move on with her future, Grissom tries to allow her the space she needs. But that becomes impossible when both their lives are put in peril. Love and hate collide as vengeance returns to their lives, seeking retribution.


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